
Pass J ?/l 6396 , 

Book_ AzMx -. 



THE s 



SATIRES OF HORACE 



FOR THE STUDENT. 



WITH ILLUSTRATED ARTICLES EASED ON THOSE IN 
RICH'S "ANTIQUITIES" 



ROMAN HOUSE, AMPHITHEATRE, THE PRINCIPAL ARTICLES OF 
DRESS, THE FORUM, THE BATHS, AND THE LOOM. 

AND 

NOTES TRANSLATED FROM THOSE IN ORELLFS EDITION. 



By R. M. MILLINGTON, M.A. 



LONDON : 
LONGMANS, GREEN, READER, & DYER, 

PATERNOSTER ROW. 
1870. 



oO> 



«g«* 



LONDON : 

J. AND W. RIDER, PRINTERS, 

BARTHOLOMEW CLOSE* 



INTRODUCTION. 

The special object of this translation is to offer to the student 
an accurate and readable version of this portion of the works 
of Horace. 

The iambic rhythm has been adopted with the idea that 
prose with a rhythm is smoother and more harmonious than 
prose without it, and consequently is, to a certain extent, 
nearer the original. 

It is believed that the illustrated articles will be found very 
useful to the student. 

Orelli's text and notes have been consulted throughout. 

It may be as well to say a few words on the distinctive 
features of the satire and philosophy of Horace, as it is very 
possible that some may conclude that the one is merely a 
denunciation against men's vices and defects, and that the 
other is either vague and dreamy, or Utopian and im- 
possible. 

The chief characteristic of Horatian satire is, that instead of 
lashing vice and human weakness with the uncompromising 



IV INTRODUCTION. 

severity and indignant sarcasm of a Juvenal, it rather, with a 
pleasant vein of irony and playful personality, gently reproves 
and remonstrates than summarily condemns. And while 
entirely allowing that it was quite desirable that there should 
arise a Juvenal to brand with infamy such reigns of terror and 
excess as that of Domitian, the author unhesitatingly claims for 
Horace immunity from the charge of sympathizing with vice. 
If the real end and purpose of satire be to check, not merely to 
inveigh against vice, Horace's method of handling the subject 
seems the best calculated to attain that end. And that he 
deliberately chose that method, not from a secret leaning 
to the vices and follies he satirized, but with the true instinct 
of a master of his art, and from the teaching of his own philo- 
sophy, those who attentively read this portion of his works 
can have no reasonable doubt. Men are not so likely to 
listen to or profit by the fierce strictures of a satirist who 
in his writings apparently exhibits not only the utmost disdain 
and abhorrence of vice, but seems to arrogate to himself 
exemption from most of the weaknesses poor humanity has 
ever been subject to. The feeling created in the minds of the 
satirized is much more likely to be one of antagonism, or even 
more likely of indifference, on the ground that such a satirist 
really cannot fully understand human nature. 

Horace, on the contrary, knew human nature thoroughly; 
and the consummate address with which, while holding vice up 
to ridicule, he carefully avoids giving any impression that he is 
himself exempt from it, combined with the genial kindliness of 



INTRODUCTION. V 

a nature that satire cannot conceal, must have at once given 
him the advantage of being fully intelligible to his readers as a 
satirist, and, from his relations with Maecenas his patron, and 
through him with the Emperor Augustus, must have secured 
for his writings the attention of most of the influential men of 
his day. No one had more real friends than Horace, no poet 
was more really liked by the powerful, although the aristocracy 
of Rome were as exclusive and haughty as the old Bourbons 
themselves. The bearing, at once liberal and independent, and 
yet modest and unassuming, that he ever preserved, in spite 
of the suddenness of his rise and the consequent difficulty 
of the role he had to play in a city where adroit flattery 
was far more acceptable than real and unpretending merit, 
deserves the warmest commendation. Shall we assign as 
reasons for this popularity (as a satirist) that he tacitly approved 
of, at all events, the milder vices, and that, with the spirit of a 
courtier, he merely modified his tone to suit the times, or that 
he recognised the absurdity of attempting to preach to an 
audience in a language which, if they heard, they would 
not understand ; and which, if they understood, they would 
probably pretend not to hear? Let those who read him 
judge. The author is quite content to believe as much good 
as possible of a writer who, beyond dispute, was not only 
a great satirist, but who was a genial companion, a thorough 
gentleman, a firm friend, and singularly free from prejudice. 

With regard to his philosophy it is enough to say that, while 
carefully and critically culling the good from the various 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

systems that then engrossed men's minds and attention, he 
never absolutely adhered to the tenets of any one, but seems 
to have had firmer faith in the wisdom to be derived from that 
maxim, "the golden mean," which more or less tinctures his 
writing. 



LIFE OF HORACE. 



In December of the year 65 B.C., in the consulship of Lucius 
Aurelius Cotta and Lucius Manlius Torquatus, was born the 
great Roman poet and satirist of the Augustan age, Quintus 
Horatius Flaccus. His birthplace was a small town then 
called Venusia or Venusium, and now Venosa, situated in 
Apulia, and only separated from Lucania by a chain of moun- 
tains about one mile to the south of the town, which formed 
the natural boundary between the two countries. His father, 
whose condition was that of a freedman, while exercising the 
humble calling of collector of the salt fish revenues, had ac- 
quired means enough to purchase a small farm near Venusia, 
on the banks of the river Aufidus, now called the Ofanto. 
The first ten or eleven years of the poet's life were passed in 
this small town, when the father, dissatisfied with the advan- 
tages afforded by the tenth-rate academy of Flavius at Venusia, 
and probably even then perceiving some indications of the 
genius his son afterwards manifested, removed to Rome, and 
placed him under the care of a celebrated schoolmaster named 
Orbilius Pupillus of Beneventum, now Benevento ; under 
whose tuition he became acquainted with the more ancient 
poets of Rome, such as Livius, Ennius, and Lucilius, whose 
satiric writing Horace has himself told us that he imitated. 
He next learned the Greek language, and read some of the 
literature of Greece ; and so, while the father was plying his" 
humble calling of broker's clerk, or tax-gatherer, the son was 



Vlll LIFE OF HORACE. 

receiving instruction and advantages suited even to the sons of 
the oldest aristocracy of Rome. The poet himself pays a grace- 
ful tribute of acknowledgment to this self-denial on the part of 
the father, and to his careful training, in the Sixth Satire of the 
First Book, where, alluding to the former, he says, — 

" But if my character be sullied by more venial defects, and 
those but few, and be good in the main \ if none shall fairly 
charge me with the fault of avarice, or meanness, or bad com- 
pany ; if I be pure and guiltless ; if, to praise myself, I live 
dear to my friends, — my father was the cause of this ; for he, 
though poor, sent me to Rome to learn accomplishments 
which any gentleman of property, or any member of the House, 
might get his children taught.'' 

And to the latter, — 

"In fine, he kept me chastely free from all immoral deeds; 
nor that alone, but e'en from slander's slur, and purity like this 
is youthful virtue's brightest crown." 

When about twenty or one-and-twenty years of age, Horace 
went to Athens to complete his education; and here, while 
" learning philosophic truth 'mid Academus' groves," he found 
for his fellow-students, the son of Cicero, Varus, and Messalla. 
Meantime the crash of civil war had burst in Rome : the Dic- 
tator Caesar had fallen by the assassin's dagger :— Antony was 
bending all his energies to raise from the embers of his power 
a tyranny more to be dreaded, while Brutus and Cassius were 
at Athens endeavouring to enrol under their banner the young 
Romans who were there quietly pursuing their studies, as yet 
uninfluenced by the tide of anarchy and the fierce rivalry of 
faction. Horace joined the republican army, and finished an 
uneventful campaign of nearly two years in Macedonia by 
serving as a general officer at the battle of Philippi, now 
Filibah, against Mark Antony and Octavianus, as Augustus 
then was called, in which Brutus and Cassius were totally 



LIFE OF HORACE. IX 

defeated : and the poet fled from the battle-field, and repaired 
to Rome, after saving his life (but not his small property at 
Venusia, which was confiscated), intending to maintain himself 
by his pen. His father was now dead, and it was no bright 
opening for the young Venusian to appear as a political rene- 
gade, without fame and without patronage, in a town like Rome, 
where the courtier and the informer too often found the way 
to honour and distinction more easily than the man of genius 
or merit. However, as he says himself, " my poverty compelled 
me to write verses," and although it was satire that he wrote 
(for from his satires alone he gained his early and most lasting 
fame), we find him soon attracting the notice of Virgil and 
Varius, and, through their recommendation, securing the 
patronage of Caius Cilnius Maecenas, the intimate friend and 
chief counsellor, together with Agrippa, of the Emperor Au- 
gustus. He was now twenty-seven years of age ; had won for 
himself a name among the most celebrated literary men of the 
day, such as Virgil, Ovid, and Tibullus ; enjoying the friend- 
ship of the Emperor, of Maecenas, and of such men as Marcus 
Vipsanius Agrippa, Caius Asinius Pollio, and Quintus ^Elius 
Lamia. 

He was now secured from want, and received, as marks of 
his patron's favour and esteem, a romantic villa at Tibur, now 
Tivoli, on the banks of the Anio, now the Teverone, and a 
retired farm in the eastern extremity of the country of the 
Sabines, in one or other of which he spent a great part of his 
time, and ever preferred the simple country life to the pomp 
and bustle of Rome. And there is no need to suppose that 
this love of retirement was due to anything but the teaching of 
his own philosophy, for he had offers of positions of emolu- 
ment ; and, indeed, the Emperor Augustus, when the weight of 
supreme rule began to be felt and his health to suffer, desired 
that Horace would accept the office of private secretary, and 



X LIFE OF HORACE. 

this Augustus more especially wished so that the poet might 
conduct the correspondence between himself and his private 
friends, — an office for which Horace must have been singu- 
larly qualified. The poet, however, declined the offer; and 
still enjoyed the imperial friendship. Maecenas gave a signal 
proof of the affection with which he regarded him, for in 
his last communication to the Emperor he said, " Remember 
Horatius Flaccus even as you remember me." We learn 
from his own writings that Horace was fond of warmth and 
sunny weather ; that his hair was grey early in life ; that he 
was short and corpulent, and suffered from weak digestion 
and sore eyes, — a bodily defect very common among the 
Romans. His manner of living was abstemious, and he was 
moderate and temperate in his pleasures; and his convivial 
hours were ever marked by social wit and philosophical wisdom. 
He died in November of the year 8 B.C., or the early part of 
December, in the fifty-eighth year of his age, having survived 
his patron by a few weeks only, was buried near him on the 
Esquiline hill, and left his property to the Emperor. 

The dates and order of his publications are as follow : — 

I. The First Book of the Satires, b.c 35. 
II. The Second Book of the Satires, between 35 and 
30 B.C. 

III. The Epodes, b.c 29 or 30. 

IV. The First Three Books of the Odes, between 30 and 

24 B.C. 
V. The First Book of the Epistles, between 24 and 20 b.c. 
VI. The Carmen Seculare, 17 b.c 
VII. The Fourth Book of the Odes, between 17 and 13 b.c. 
VIII. The Second Book of the Epistles, after the Carmen 
Seculare, but the year is uncertain. 
IX. Art of Poetry, — quite uncertain. 

The reader will find his philosophy alluded to in the follow- 
ing parts of the Satires and Epistles : — 



LIFE OF HORACE. 



XI 



Satires. 


Bk. I. 


, Satire 


i. 




JJ 


Bk. II. 


, Satire 


2. 


First paragraph. 


JJ 


JJ 


Satire 


4- 


Apology for Epicurus. 


JJ 


jj 


Satire 


6. 




JJ 


JJ 


Satire 


7. 


By the mouth of Davus, in 
the last long paragraph. 


Epistles. 


Bk. I. 


, Epistle 


1. 


In the first part. 


Jj 


JJ 


Epistle 


4- 


In the latter part. 


JJ 


JJ 


Epistle 


6. 


In the first part. 


JJ 


JJ 


Epistle 


18. 


In the latter part. 


JJ 


JJ 


Epistle 


20. 


In the latter part. 


JJ 


Bk. II., 


Epistle 


2. 


In the latter part. 



By the same Author. 

THE BUCOLICS, or ECLOGUES OF VIRGIL, with 

Notes based on those in Conington's Edition, a Life of Virgil, more 
than 100 Vv'oodcuts from Rich's "Antiquities," and an Illustrated 
Article on the Ancient Musical Instruments, translated into English 
Heroic Verse. Fcap. 8vo., cloth boards, illuminated, gilt edges, 5s. 

THE BUCOLICS, translated into Rhythmic Prose, with 
Notes for the Student. Fcap. 8vo., cloth boards, 2s. 6d. 

LONGMANS & CO. 



DOMU S, 

OR ROMAN PRIVATE HOUSE. 



The Roman houses were generally built upon the same plan, 
differing from one another only in the size, number, and 
arrangement of the apartments they contained, or the extent 
and character of the ground on which they stood. They were 
divided into two principal members, as shown by the ground 
plan annexed. The several apartments mentioned made the 
nucleus of the house on its ground plan, and are always found 



][ 



j 



JL 



C 
1 



T T E I T 

tormnHn 

Ground plan of private house. 

in every Roman house of any size. The relative situations 
were always fixed, and they were constructed according to a 
received model, as shown in the above plan, a a a represents 
the protliy) um * or entrance passage from the street (for which 
sec illustration on next page representing the prothyrum), and 
at its further end the ostium, a door half closed, which was used 



DOMUS. 



xni 



to shut off the atrium (see woodcuts to Atrium on page xiv) 
from the entrance passage. The pavement was generally mosaic, 
and the usual word of salutation (salve) was inlaid in coloured 
stone at the entrance (see illustrations to Pavimentum on pages 
xix and xx). Janua^ was the street door, as distinguished from 
the ostium, as shown by the annexed illustration. 

b b b, in the ground plan, refer to the atrium, or principal 
apartment in a Roman house, with its appropriate dependences 




* Frothy rum, or entrance passage 
from the street. 



t Janua, front or street door. 



all round it. as shown by the illustrations on page xiv, and also 
by the one termed cavcedium (cavum a>,dium\ which shows the 
atrium from the outside. 

c c c, in the ground plan, refers to the peristylium, with its 
appurtenances beyond. The parts of the house belonging to 
the peristylium were connected by an intermediate room called 



XIV 



DOMUS. 



the tablinum, or one or two corridors termed fauces, and occa- 
sionally by both. 

The letters d d d, in the ground plan, refer to the tablinum* 
as shown by the illustration on page xv. The part immediately 
in front of the drawing is the floor of the atrium, with a portion 




* Atrium Tuscanicum, or principal Atrium Tetrastylum, or principal 
apartment, in the Tuscan style. apartment, supported by four columns. 

of its * impluvium ; the dark open recess occupying the left 
half of the middle ground is the tablinum, with the colonnade 
of the peristylium f showing through, and the small door at 
the right of it is the faux, or corridor, which also opens upon 
the peristylium at its further extremity. The apartment is 
entirely open at both ends, so as to permit a continuous view 




Cavccdium (cavum czdium), or outside view of the atrium. 

through both divisions of the house ; but those ends were 
closed when desired by moveable screens or partitions of wood 
called tabula, which is evident, from there being a separate 
passage at the side to afford communication between the atriwn 



DOMUS. 



XV 



and fieristylium, which would not be required if the tablinum * 
permitted a thoroughfare always through it. The name 
tablinum is probably derived from these tabulce, or screens. 




\ Per isty litem, or second and inner divi- * Tablinum, one of the principal pri- 

sion of a Roman house, generally vate apartments in a Roman house, 

the domestic apartments occupied adjoining the atrium and fauces ', 

by the proprietor and family. or corridors, and showing the ara, 

Compluvium, a large square opening in the centre of the 
roof which covered the four sides of the atrium, and towards 




Latrina, showing the washing-places, w.c, &c, and offices near 
kitchen, in a private house. 



XVI DOMUS. 

which three sides converged for the purpose of carrying down 
the rain into a reservoir {impluviuni) . See woodcut to Atrium 
Tuscanicum on page xiv. 

Lairina (lavatrina), (see cut on page xv,) the wash-places and 
offices contiguous to the kitchens. The two small arches on the 
right form the kitchen stove. Four steps lead down to the room, 
and have a hand rail by their side to aid the ascent or descent, 
the mark of which is shown on the wall. The recess to the left 
is the latrina^ originally closed by a wooden door, which has left 
the marks of its hinges and bolt on the edge of the door-frame ; 
and the mouth of the pipe through which the place was supplied 
with water is observable in the right-hand corner. 

Ara, or altar, placed close by the impluvium of a private 
house, on which the family sacrifice was made. The ara is on 
the margin of the reservoir, or impluviiwi^ in the right-hand 
woodcut on page xv, which shows both. 

Alee were large recesses in, Roman houses of any pretensions 
to magnificence, generally one on each side of the atrium, 
furnished with seats, and closed in front with curtains, intended 




* Cellce, or dormitories for slaves of the house. 

for the master of the house to receive his visitors in and to 
enjoy the conversation of his acquaintance* The entrance to 
the alee is formed by the two large doorways with the curtains 
drawn aside at the further angle of the chamber on the right 
and left. (See illustration to Atrium Tuscaiiicwn on p. xiv). 
* Cellez were dormitories for household slaves, as the annexed 



DOMUS. 



XVI 1 



illustration represents. They were often found in Roman 
villas, and the fronts were originally bricked in with only an 
entrance door. 

Chalcidicum. — This was a large, low, deep porch, covered 
with its own roof, supported on pilasters, and appended to the 
entrance front of a building, and forming a grand entrance to 
the whole edifice. It was added to private as well as public 
buildings, not merely as an ornament, but also to give shelter 
to persons waiting outside to be admitted, or to transact public 
business in. 




Chalcidicum, or large entrance porch to a private or 
public building. 

Fenestra. — The illustration on p.xviii represents three ancient 
windows of different designs : the one on the left hand being 
from a Greek bas-relief in the British Museum ; that on the 
right from the Vatican Virgil, and the centre one from a 
marble sarcophagus of a later period found in the Vatican 
cemetery. 

In later times the walls of dwelling-houses and rooms were 
sometimes decorated with imaginary views of country scenery, 

B 



XVlll 



DOMUS. 



ports, and temples, termed topia, as shown by the annexed 
illustration. 

Pavimentum. — A flooring composed of small pieces of brick, 
tile, stone, and shells, set in a bed of cement, and consolidated 
by beating with a rammer (pavicula\ which gave rise to the 
name : afterwards applied to any kind of artificial flooring, even 
of the most elaborate workmanship, like those shown by the 
illustrations on next page. 




Fen est re 



windows 



Topici) or landscape paintings. 

Pavimentum sectile, — This was a flooring composed of pieces 
of different coloured marbles, cut (secta) into sets of regular 
form or size, so that when joined together the whole constituted 
an ornamental design or pattern, as exhibited by the annexed 
specimen. The objects at the top show the different forms of 
the pieces with which it is composed : the triangular ones, a 
and b, consist of serpe?iti?ie and palombino respectively; the hex- 
agonal, c, of pavonazzetto ; and the square, d, of red porphyry. 

Pavime?itu7n tesselatiwi, or tesseris structum. — This is a 
flooring belonging to the class of sectilia, and also of an orna- 
mental character, composed of coloured marbles. The pieces 
composing it were cut into regular dies without the admixture 
of other forms, as in the annexed example, showing part of a 
pavement in the Thermae of Caracalla at Rome. Square dies 
(tessclla, tessera) were likewise employed in making other kinds 



DOMUS. 



XIX 



of mosaic pavements, as in the following specimen ; but in 
that case they were of smaller dimensions and less precise in 
their angles. 

Pavimentum vermiculatum. — A mosaic flooring or pavement 
representing natural objects, both animate and inanimate, in 




Pavimentum sectile, or flooring composed of pieces of 
different coloured marble. 

their real forms and colours, as in a picture. It was composed 
with small pieces of different coloured marbles, inlaid in a bed 
of very strong cement, the colours and arrangement of the 



E'T] L ' : "-"L 


|i! ■■■! 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 II 1 1 




1 ■ II 1 1 i 1 1 : ' 


L . 


!:i:; 1 


i , .i : 


HI 


'■[■■II : i-.it 




r^ 


L ' 1 i_L 


" 


L 1.. 


i'l :H 


If 




: ' M 










1 






l I I 










1 




N. 1 I 


I'l 






\ 




i- .!:,:,! 






i 




! 






Illil 








hi 






Ml* 'l 


1 L 


. • : 


' 


1 






L 






l l 


1 


! 






U l 




i 










r [ 


" i:L 


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"f — '— 




1 


4- 




-^ u 


1 - 






— 



Pavimentum tesselatum, flooring with pieces of marble 
cut in regular dies. 

pieces being selected and disposed so as to imitate the object 
designed with a good deal of pictorial effect. The dies were 
not exactly square, nor laid in parallel lines; but they fol- 
lowed the sweep and undulations in the contours and colours 
of the objects reproduced, which, when viewed at a little dis- 



XX 



DOMUS. 



tance, presented a resemblance to the wreathing and twisting 
of a cluster of worms (vermes), and thus suggested the name. 

Pavimentum scalpturatum. — An ornamental flooring or pave- 
ment on which the design is produced by engraving (scalpturd), 
and perhaps inlaying, but, as the name implies, by a different 
process or in a different manner from the kinds already de- 








l iJMj^kM?M 



Pavimentum vermiculatum, a mosaic 
flooring representing natural ob- 
jects, animate or inanimate. 



Pavimentum scalpturatum, orna- 
mental flooring on which the 
design is engraved or inlaid, 
but by a different process from 
any of the others. 

scribed. Though this kind of pavement was simple at first, this 
style of decorative art was sometimes carried to great perfec- 



!*! 



S ! 






W i- 

Alexandrinum opus, mosaic flooring for rooms. 

tion, and in such a way that the effect of a finished cartoon was 
produced on the pavement by inserting pieces of grey marble 



DOMUS. XXI 

for the half-tints into white; then hatching across both with 
the chisel, and filling in the incisions with black mastic for the 
shade, so that the whole looks like a finished chalk drawing. 
The illustration is a fac-simile of one of the groups designed by 
the artist Beccafiume. 

Alexandrinum opus. — A particular kind of mosaic work, 
especially used for the flooring of rooms, and belonging to the 
class of pavements termed sectilia; the distinctive character of 
which consisted in this* that the frets or patterns forming the 
designs were composed of the conjunction of only two colours 
— red and black, for instance— on a white ground, as in the 
example, which represents a portion of a pavement in a house 
at Pompeii. 



AMPHITHEATRUM. 

i. Amphitheatrum, a building constructed for the exhibi- 
tion of gladiatorial combats, and sometimes used for other 
spectacles. The illustration shows the exterior view. 



Exterior view of amphitheatrum still standing at Pola in Istria, showing 
the oval wall divided into stories of arcades, decorated with columns and 
pilasters. 

2. The next illustration shows the interior view of the 
amphitheatre at Pompeii ; but as the drawing is on a very 
reduced scale, and indistinct through the dilapidations of the 
building, it should be compared w r ith the woodcut, No. 3, that 
follows this, in which full particulars are given. 




Interior view of amphitheatre, forming an elliptical cup (cavea), set round 
with seats, containing arena, and other parts enumerated in the next 
woodcut 



AMPHITHEATRUM. 



XX111 



3. This woodcut shows a restored section and elevation of a 
portion of the amphitheatre at Pola. The company entered 
through the arches on the ground-floor at the left-hand side 
of the engraving, a is the podium, which is approached 
by a short staircase springing from the third or inner cor- 
ridor in the centre of the woodcut. It is raised above 
the arena by a blank wall, surmounted by a balustrade, 
under which is seen one of the doorways through which the 




Restored section and elevation of amphitheatre at Pola, with 
detailed account of the parts. 

wild beasts or combatants emerged upon the arena. The 
staircase, which commences immediately from the ground 
entrance, leads directly to the first mcenianum (1), or flight, 
into several of which flights the gradus or circles of seats occu- 
pied by the public were divided, when the building was lofty, 
by broad landing-places {prcecinctiones) and raised walls (battel), 
and' vertically into compartments in the form of an inverted 
triangle (cunei) by a number of staircases (scalce) which com- 
municated with the avenues of ingress and egress (vomitorid) 
within the shell of the building. The spectator entered the 



XXIV 



AMPHITHEATRUM. 



mcenianum i, referred to above, through the doorways (vomi- 
toria) b, and descended the flights of stairs which divide the 
rows of seats between them into a wedge-shaped compartment 
{cuneus), until he came to the particular row where his seat was 
reserved. The high blank wall into which the entrance (b) 
opens is the battens, and its object was to separate the various 
mcmiana and prevent the classes who were only entitled to a 
seat in the upper mcmiana from descending into the lower 
ones. A branch staircase diverging to the left leads up to the 
corridor formed by the arcades of the outer wall, from whence 
it turns to the right and conducts to the second manianum (2), 
which is entered and distributed in the same way as the lower 
one, and separated from the one above by another balteus (c). 
Other staircases, though they cannot be shown on one section, 
conduct in like manner to the third mcenianum (3), and to the 
covered gallery for the women above (d). The three solid 
arches in the centre of the engraving, constructed in the main 
brickwork of the building, form a succession of corridors 
encircling the whole edifice, from which the different staircases 
spring, while at the same time they support the seats of the 
cavea and the flights of stairs by which the company entered 
or left the amphitheatre. 




M(cnianu?n, showing ranges of seats with compartments (cuna) t 
from the theatre at Pompeii. 

4. This illustration gives a separate view of mamia?ia y or 
entire ranges of seats rising in concentric circles between one 



AMPHITHEATRUM. XXV 

landing-place (prcecinctio) and another, but divided perpen- 
dicularly into a number of compartments (cimei) by the flights 
of steps {scalce) which the spectators descended or ascended to 
and from their places. The engraving shows a portion of two 
mceniafia containing three cimci. Each maniamim comprised 
an entire circuit. 



THEATRUM. 

(Orchestra^ Pulpitum, Proscenium.) 

The Roman theatre was originally a temporary wooden 
scaffolding, erected for the occasion, and when no longer 
needed, pulled down. It was afterwards constructed of 
brick or stone, with considerable architectural beauty and 
magnificence of decoration. It was usually built upon a 
level space within the town, and consisted externally of a 
semicircular elevation at one end, comprising one or more 
stories of arcades, through which the spectators entered and 




Circular end of the theatre oi Marcellus. 

passed by staircases constructed within them to a number 
of semicircular tiers of seats in the interior of the building, 
which were enclosed by the external wall described, and 
exhibited by the illustration showing the circular end of 



THEATRUM. 



XXV11 



the theatre of Marcellus as it now exists in partial ruins at 
Rome. Two stories only remain — the lower one, of the Doric 
order, partly embedded in the soil : over this the Ionic is more 
perfect. But there was originally a third story, of the Corinthian 
order, which has entirely disappeared. The circular line of 
the plan is distinctly apparent in the drawing, as well as the 
columns which decorated each story and the stonework of the 
arches between them, which formed so many open arcades, 
now filled up by the wall and windows of modern houses, into 




a ^m 



I CJ C=^J (_. CJ 



Mir 



m 
^ 



m 



Ground plan of Pompey's theatre at Rome. 

which the edifice has been transformed. The opposite ex- 
tremity of the building, which contained the stage, apartments 
for the use of the actors, and conveniences for storing property, 
was flat, forming as it were a chord or base to the semicircle, 
and was decorated externally by a portico (porticus), (see article 
on Amphitheati'um, the exterior view,) sometimes of consider- 
able extent, containing numerous colonnades, open or covered 
walks, and corridors, and forming a favourite resort for the 
idle and fashionable loungers of the city. A portion of these 
appurtenances, sufficient to give an accurate notion of the 
entire structure, is exhibited by the lowest part of the annexed 
illustration, which represents the ground plan of Pompey's 



XXV111 



THEATRUM. 



theatre at Rome, showing the portico at the bottom marked in 
black lines, then the walls of the scene and stage, and beyond 
them the circular seats for the spectators, which were enclosed 
externally by a wall similar to that exhibited in the first illus- 
tration. The interior was open to the sky, having no roof, and 
consisted of the following essential parts, distributed in the 
manner shown by the annexed engraving representing the 




• ooo o 9 © O O O O & o & © © O O • • • • 

Ground plan of theatre at Herculaneum. 

ground plan of the theatre at Herculaneum, which is con- 
structed upon the Roman model. The body of the house 
(cavea), where the spectators sat, consists of a number of semi- 
circular rows of seats formed by deep steps (gradus) rising 
in concentric lines one above the other, which were sub- 
divided horizontally into tiers (mceniand) y (see Amphithea- 
trum for the terms,) comprising several rows each by broad 



THEATRUM. 



XXIX 



landing-places (prcecinctiones, a a, a a), and vertically into 
cuneiform compartments (cunti, b b b b b) by a number of 
staircases (scalce, a a a a a), down which the spectators de- 
scended to the row where their respective places were situated, 
upon entering the house through the open doorways (vomitoria, 




Orchestra of Greek or Roman theatre. 

b b b b b) at the head of each staircase, which were reached by 
means of passages and covered lobbies constructed in the 
shell of the building, precisely in the same manner as explained 
and illustrated by the text and woodcut to restored section of 
amphitheatrum. At the bottom of the cavea was the orchestra 
(c), an exact half-circle, and answering in use and locality to 




Proscenium, stage of theatre, bounded by the permanent wall of 
scena at the back and orchestra in front. 

our pzf, for it contained the seats appropriated to the magis- 
trates and persons of distinction, and was not used like the 
Greek orchestra for a chorus and musicians. A little in 



XXX THEATRUM. 

advance of this was a low wall (pulpit um or proscenii pulpiium, 
c), forming the front of the stage (proscenium, d d) towards 
the spectators, and separating it from the orchestra. At the 
back of the stage there was a lofty wall of brick or masonry 
(scena, e e e), which formed the permanent scene of the theatre, 
with three grand entrances for the chief actors ; and behind 
this the apartments for the actors and property (postscenium, 
e e), or what w r e call the part " behind the scenes." (See 
illustration to proscenium for postscenium, boundary wall of 
which is shown in a half-tint at the back.) The two divisions 
in advance of the stage on each side of it, like our stage boxes 
(//), are supposed to have been reserved as places of honour 
for the chief magistrates of Herculaneum, for they have each 
a private entrance from the portico at the back of the house 
by a separate staircase (g g), but they do not appear to have 
been usual in every theatre. 



CIRCUS. 

The annexed illustration shows a ground plan of a Roman 
racecourse called Circus. It was laid out in an oblong form, 
terminating in a semicircle at one extremity, and enclosed at 
the opposite end by a pile of buildings called the town (oppi- 
dum), under which the stalls (carceres) for the horses and 
chariots were distributed, marked a a in the engraving. 
b represents along low wall called spina, built lengthwise down 
the course, so as to divide it like a barrier into two distinct 
parts, and at each of its ends was placed a goal (meta), round 
which the chariots turned ; the one nearest to the stables (c) 
being termed meta prima, the farther one (d) meta secunda, 
d represents the goal at the bottom. The stalls (a a) are 
arranged in the segment of a circle, of which the centre falls 




^ 



■=— ^ g s, ^ 

Ground plan of ci?rus or Roman racecourse. 

exactly in the middle point (e) between the first meta and the 
side of the building at which the race commenced, e repre- 
sents a chalked rope {alba lined) fastened across from two 
small marble pillars (hermulce), and loosened away from one side 
as soon as all the horses were brought up fairly abreast fcf it, 
and the signal for the start had been given. The out-building 
f is the Emperor's box (pulvinar). and the one on the opposite 
side (g) is supposed to have been intended for the magistrate 



xxxn 



CIRCUS. 



called editor spectaculorum, at whose charge the games were 
exhibited. In the centre of the end occupied by the stalls 
was a grand entrance (h), called porta pompce, through which 
the Circensian procession entered the ground before the races 
commenced. Another one was constructed at the circular 
extremity (i), called porta triwnphalis, through which the 
victors left the ground in a sort of triumph. A third is situated 
on the right side (k), called porta libit ine?is is, through which 




Ancient racecourse at Constantinople. 

the killed or wounded drivers were conveyed away ; and two 
others (l l) were left close by the carceres through which the 
chariots were driven into the ground. 

The external and internal elevation of a circus was much 
like that of an amphitheatre (see Amphitheatrum), though 
the annexed engraving will afford a fair idea, as, though a 
ruin, it shows distinctly the arcades and outer shell of the 
building ; some fragments of the rows of seats for the spec- 
tators ; the spina, with its obelisks and columns nearly perfect ; 
the vieta p7'ima on the right hand of it ; the oppidimi and 
carceres arranged on a curved line, as in the first example ; 
and^one of the gates through which the chariots entered the 
ground, like those marked l l on the ground-plan. 



FORUM. 



i. The original meaning of the word forum was the un- 
covered space of ground left in front of a tomb, in which 
the same right of property existed as in the sepulchre itself. 

2. A market-place, consisting of a large open area in the 
centre, where the country people exhibited their produce for 
sale, surrounded by outbuildings and colonnades, under which 
the different trades erected stalls and displayed their wares 
or merchandise. In small towns a single forum would suffice 
for different markets; but in large cities, like Rome, almost 




The cattle and vegetable markets at Rome. 

every class of provision dealers had a market of their own 
distinguished by the name of the produce sold in it — z.% forum 
boarium, the cattle-market ; forum oliiorium, the cabbage or 
vegetable market ; both of which are represented in the 
annexed illustration, which also distinctly shows the manner 
in which an ancient market-place was laid out and enclosed. 

3. The Forum, i. e., a large open area of a nature somewhat 
similar to the last one described, but laid out upon a much more 
magnificent scale (see woodcut on page xxxvi), and intended as 

c 



XXXIV 



FORUM. 



a place for holding public meetings in the open air, and for the 
transaction of judicial and commercial business, rather than a 





fc^r^m;ClC 




A reus ox fornix, triumphal Career, or gaol, showing the career inferior, 
arch. or dark underground dungeon, having 

access to the career interior, or middle 
gaol, by an aperture in the roof, which 
also opened into the place for custodia 
communis, or lighter imprisonment, 
through an aperture in the roof. 

mere provision-market. It was surrounded by the principal 
public buildings and offices of state, courts of justice, basilicce* 




* Ground plan of a basilica, consisting of central nave and two side aisles 
divided from it by a row of columns on either side. At the further 
extremity of the principal nave a portion was railed off, as shown at 
the right hand of the cut, like the chancel of a church, to form a 
more private recess from the noise and activity of traffickers, in 
which the judges sat and the counsel pleaded. 

places of worship, and spacious colonnades of one or more 
stories, in which the merchants, bankers, and money-dealers 



FORUM 



XXXV 



had their counting-houses and transacted their business. The 
famous Roman Forum is nothing but a mass of ruins. The 
illustration on page xxxvi gives a plan of the Forum afforded by 
the excavations at Pompeii. The central area is paved with 
large square flags, on which the bases for many statues still 
remain, and surrounded by a Doric colonnade of two stories, 
backed by a range of spacious and lofty buildi ngs all round. 
The principal entrance is through an archway (fornix, a, see 
page xxxiv), towards the left-hand corner of the plan, and by the 
side of a temple of the Corinthian order (b), supposed to have 
been dedicated to Jupiter. On the opposite flank of this temple 
is another entrance into the Forum, and by its side the public 



11 r ii ; r 







* The whole of the interior of a basilica was surrounded by an upper 
gallery raised upon the columns which divided the aisles below, as 
in this engraving, which shows a longitudinal section and elevation 
down the centre of the ancient Basilica at Verona. These upper 
galleries were intended for spectators and loungers. At the end is 
shown a tribune, thrown out instead of the chancel in the woodcut on 
page xxxiv to answer the same purpose as the recess there spoken of. 

prison {career, c — see the illustration to Career on page xxxiv), 
in which the bones of two men with fetters on their legs were 
found. Adjacent to this is a long, shallow building (d), with 
several entrances from the colonnade, which was probably a 
public granary (horreum). The next building is another temple 
of the Corinthian order (e) dedicated to Venus. It stands in 
an area enclosed by a flank wall and peristyle, to which the 



XXXVI 



FORUM. 



principal entrance is in a side street, abutting on the Forum, 
and flanking the basilica (f — see illustration to Basilica on 
page xxxv), beyond which there are three private houses out of 
the precincts of the Forum. 



n 6aL * — lli— — i hi 

1 




Plan of the Forum excavated at Pompeii, and answering in its 
arrangements to the one at Rome. 

The further or southern side of the square is occupied by 
three public edifices (g, h, i), nearly similar to one another in 
their plans and dimensions. All these have been decorated 
with columns and statues, fragments of which still remain on 



FORUM. 



XXXV11 



the floor ; but there are no sufficient grounds for deciding the 
uses for which they were destined. The first is merely con- 
jectured to have been a council-chamber (curia) ; the second, 
the treasury (cerarium) ; and the last, another curia. Beyond 
this is another street opening on the Forum, and turning the 
angle are the remains of a square building (k) for which no 
satisfactory use can be suggested. The space behind is occu- 
pied by the sites of three private houses. The next object is 



CVS UCTAtfl* E ET HE ■' 

AEUIS IVNOHI S ° ? 



T" 



r^L.U ?--: r 




Porticus, ground plan of portico of 
Octavia, with the temples of Ju- 
piter and Juno within its pre- 
cincts. The double row of six 
columns on the right marks the 
principal entrance. 



Chalcidicutn, or large, low, and 
deep porch, covered with its 
own roof, supported on pilasters, 
and appended to the entrance 
front of many public buildings. 



a large plot of ground (l) surrounded by a colonnade (porticus) 
and a cloister (crypto), and decorated in front where it faces 
the Forum by a spacious entrance-porch or vestibule (chalci- 
dicum), all of which were constructed at the expense of a 
female named Eumachia. (See the illustrations above to 
porticus and chalcidicum, and to chalcidicum * on page xxxviii.) 



XXXV111 



FORUM. 



Beyond this is a small temple (m), upon a raised basement, 
attributed by some to Mercury, by others to Quirinus, and 
adjoining to it an edifice (n) with a large semicircular tribune 
or absis at its further extremity, supposed to have been a 




Ground plan of public edifice, consisting of A A A, three corridors or 
crypta, surrounded on three sides by a blank wall decorated with 
fresco paintings. On the inside are windows opening on a colon- 
nade (po?-ticus) i marked bbbb, which surrounds a large central 
area (c). 



meeting-hall for the Augustals or a town-hall (senacuhim) for 
the Pompeian senate. The rear of both these structures is 
covered by the premises belonging to a fuller's establishment 
(fullonica * — see the illustration on page xxxix). 

The last structure (o) is a magnificent building commonly 
called the Pantheon, with various appurtenances behind it, so 
called from twelve pedestals placed in a circle round an altar 
in their centre, supposed to have supported the statues of the 
Dii Magni, or twelve principal divinities, but the style of the 
decorations and the subject of the numerous paintings which 
ornamented its walls make it probable that it was a banqueting- 
hall for the Augustals. 



FORUM. 



XXXIX 





Fuller in his tub. 



Ground plan of fuller's washhouse and premises at Pompeii. A, the 
principal entrance from the main street. B, the porter's lodge. 
c, the impluvium. D, a fountain with jet of water. E, a spacious 
apartment opening on the courtyard for drying clothes. F, a 
tablinum, with a room on each side where customers were received. 
G, closet for clothes already scoured. H, adjoining rooms where 
active trade operations were carried on. I, wash-house with 
tank for simple washing and rinsing. K, the place where dirt 
and grease were got out by rubbing and treading with the feet. 
LLLLLL, six niches on the sides of the room, separated from one 
another by low walls about the height of a man's armpits, in each of 
which was placed a tub where the fuller stood and trod out the 
impurities of the clothes with bare feet, raising himself on his arms 
to do so, which rested, as shown by the engraving, on the side walls. 
M M M, three smaller tanks for soaking clothes before washing. 
N, fountain or well for workmen, o, back gate opening on a small 
street contiguous to that portion of the premises in which the active 
part of the trade was performed, r P, spare rooms. Q, the furnace. 
R, apartment contiguous. S, stairs ascending to an upper story. 
T T T, apartments opening on the courtyard, painted in fresco, 
appropriated for the use of the master and mistress of the establish- 
ment. The rooms at the bottom of the plan without references are 
shops facing the street, and belonging to other tradesmen. 



TELA. 



Tela, a weaver's loom. The earliest looms, and those 
common among the Romans, were upright ones, such as are 
still used at the Gobelin's manufactory in India, for making 
tapestry, and in Iceland. The illustration,* though taken from 
an Egyptian model and slightly restored on one of its sides, 
exhibits distinctly all the different parts enumerated by the 
Latin writers, viz., the cross-piece or yoke (jugum), connecting 





* Tela, a weaver's loom. f Liciatorium, leash-rods shown upon 

a primitive Icelandic loom. 

the two uprights at the top ; the cloth beam (insubuliwi) imme- 
diately under it, round which the cloth was rolled as the work 
progressed ; the pair of treadles or leash-rods (/materia), 
which are also shown by the engraving annexed (Liciatorium) ft 
and are used to decussate the threads of the warp so as to 
open a shed for the passage of the shuttle {alveolus) 



, % or for 



X Alveolus, weaver's shuttle, 
the needle (radius), which conveys the weft across it. Below 
these is the reed (arundo), which is passed alternately over 



TELA. 



xli 



and under every thread of the warp, in order to separate the 
whole of them into two parcels for receiving the leashes (licia), 
and finally the yarn-beam (scapus), to which the threads or 
yarns forming the length of the cloth are fastened. In this 
loom the web is driven from below upwards ; in the next 
specimen {tela jugalis) it is driven downwards from above ; 
but in both of them the weaver stood at his work instead of 
sitting. 

2. Tela jugalis* This is the commonest and simplest kind 

J 



IPL 

* Tela jugalis ; weaver's loom with no cloth beam [insubuhim). 




Subtemen, the weft or woof, i.e., the cross thread passed alternately 
under and over the warp [stamen). (See engraving to stamen.) 

of loom that was used by the Romans, as shown by the 
annexed illustration, and so called because it had no cloth 
beam {insubulum) , the yarns being merely attached to a yoke 
(jugum) on its top. The word tela is also used for the warp 
(as in Virgil's Georgics, i., 285), i.e., the series of strongly 



xlii 



TELA. 



twisted threads or yarns extended on a loom, into which the 
finer ones of the weft (subtemen — see engraving for subte?nen 
on page xli) are woven to make a piece of cloth. In this 
sense the word is commonly accompanied by such epithets 
as starts, recta, pendula — all of which imply that the warp was 
fixed in a vertical position, and consequently upon an upright 
loom, such as is exhibited by both the illustrations, viz., tela 
and tela jugalis. 

The annexed illustrations show the stamen or spun thread, 
consisting of several fibres drawn down from the top of the 
distaff {colus) and twisted together by the thumb, and the 
rotary motion of the spindle {fusus) as it hung in a perpen- 
dicular line from the distaff, the upright portion suggesting the 
name. All these particulars are shown by the left-hand wood- 
cut representing a female spinning, while the other woodcuts 
show two spindles with thread round them and one empty. 





Neo, to spin or twist a number of separate fibres of wool 
or flax into a single thread. The annexed illustration, repre- 
senting Hercules with the distaff and spindle of Omphale, will 
elucidate the manner in which the process of spinning is 
conducted and explain the terms employed to describe the 
different steps in the operation. The loaded distaff {colus 
cornpta or lana amictd) was fixed to the left side of the 
spinner by running the end of the stick through the girdle 



TELA. 



xliii 



(cingiduni), instead of which the modern women use their 
apron strings. A number of fibres (stamina) are then drawn 
down from the top with the left hand {ducere lanam) and 
fastened to the spindle (fztsus), which is then set twirling with 
the thumb and finger, as boys spin a teetotum {stamina ne?-e), 
(pollice versare), (versare pollice fusum). The rotary motion of 






Coins, or distaff, as shown by the right-hand 
Hercules, with the figure, made of a cane stick about a yard 

distaffand spindle long, slit at the top so as to form a sort ot 

of Omphale. basket to contain the wool or flax for spin- 

ning. The ring is a sort of cap to keep the 
mass together. The figure on the left shows 
a woman with a distaff filled {coins ple7ia 
or lana amictd) in her left hand, the drawn 
thread (stamen) depending from it, and 
twisting the spindle (fnstis) with the fingers 
of her right hand. 

the spindle as it hangs suspended (see the left-hand woodcut 
above) twists these fibres into a thread (filum), which is con- 
stantly fed from above by drawing out more fibres from the 
distaff as the twist tightens {dncere stamina versato fnso). When 
the length of thread has grown so long that the spindle nearly 
touches the ground, the portion made is taken up and wound 
round the spindle, and the same process is again resumed, 
until other lengths are twisted and the spindle is entirely 
covered with thread so that it can contain no more, when the 
thread is broken from the distaff (rumpere supremas colos)> and 
the whole rolled up into a ball (glomus) ready for use. 



BALNEA. 

The illustration below on the left shows a plan of a complete 
set of public baths, including conveniences for warm and cold 
bathing, as well as sudorific or vapour baths, and provided 
with a double set of apartments for the male and female sexes. 
These baths had six distinct entrances (i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6) from 
the street, of which the first three were for visitors, 4 and 5 for 
the slaves and purposes connected with the business of the 
establishment, and the last gave access to the women's baths, 
which had no communication with the larger set. 




Balinea or balnea, ground plan of the double set of baths at Pompeii. 



Commencing the circuit of the plan by the first door (1). at the 
bottom of the plan on the left hand, we have: — <?, or a latrina^ 
w.c. a, an open court, surrounded by a colonnade on three 
of its sides, which formed a sort of atrium to the rest of the 
edifice, something like the atrium of a private house (see 



BALNEA. 



xlv 



page xiv). c c, stone seats along one side of the court for the 
slaves who were awaiting the return of their masters from the 
interior, or for the accommodation of the citizens, in like 
manner expecting the return of their friends, d, a recessed 
chamber, either intended as a waiting-room for visitors, or 
probably appropriated to the use of the superintendent of the 




* Apodyterium or undressing- room, where every one was compelled by 
law to undress and leave his clothes as a check to robbery. It has 
three doors. The one on the left hand is the general entrance from 
the outside ; that on the right of it opens into the cold bath ; the 
nearest one on the right gives access to the warm bath. Seats for 
dressing and undressing upon run along three sides of the room, and 
holes are seen in the walls in which wooden pegs were fixed for 
hanging up the clothes. The small dark niche under the window 
served to hold a lamp. 



baths, e, another latrina, near the second principal entrance 
(2), from which a corridor turning sharp to the right leads into a, 
the * apodyterium (as shown by the above engraving) or un- 
dressing-room, which has a communication with each of the 
principal entrances and with each of the apartments destined 
for the various purposes of hot and cold bathing, ff, seats of 
masonry on each side of the room for the bathers to dress and 
undress upon, b, the frigidarium, or chamber containing the 
cold -water bath (baptisterium — see the left-hand engraving 



xlvi 



BALNEA. 



below), g, a room for the use of the garde-robe, who took 
charge of the wearing apparel, kept for its owners while bathing. 




Baptisterium, or cold plunging bath, 
constructed in the cella f?'igidaria. 



* Tepidarinm, containing three bronze 
benches {subsellia) and a brazier 
( focus). The walls all round are 
divided into recesses under the 
cornice by a number of male 
figures (tdamones), which thus 
constitute a series of small closets, 
where the unguents and other 
necessaries used by the bathers 
were deposited. It is believed that 
the chamber also served for the oil- 
ing-room {elceothesium), to which 
bathers retired to be scraped with 
the strigil after the sweating bath. 



Aliptes or unctor, a slave whose business was to rub the bather dry, 
scrape off the perspiration with a strigil, and then anoint the body 
with unguents. 

c, the * tepida?iu?n (see the engraving above), or tepid 
chamber, the atmosphere of which was kept at an agreeable 




BALNEJE. 



xlvii 



warmth by means of a brazier formed in it : it was intended to 
break the sudden change of temperature from heat to cold, as 
the bather returned from the thermal chamber to the open air. 
This apartment also served sometimes as a place for being 
scraped with the strigil and anointed after the sweating bath 
(see the engraving — aliptes, on page xlvi). A door from this 
department conducted the bather into d, the caldarmm* or 
thermal chamber, which contains (h) a hot water bath {alveus) 
at one extremity, and the laconicum, with its basin or labru??i. 




* Caldarium or thermal chamber, containing three parts : — I. Laconicum y 
a semicircular alcove at the right hand of the engraving, with a 
labrum upon a raised stem in the centre of it. 2. A vacant space in 
the centre of the room {sudatorium) and a warm water bath [alveus) 
at the other extremity. In the central portion the bather exercised 
himself by lifting weights and performing gymnastics for the purpose 
of exciting perspiration ; he then sat down in the laconicum, and 
underwent a profuse perspiration, induced by the hot air from the 
flues seen under the flooring, or, if preferred, he entered the alveus 
or warm bath. 

at the other (see the engraving to laconicum on p. xlviii). /, the 
furnace, which, besides the use above mentioned, also heated 
the coppers containing the water for the baths, viz., ;;/, the 
caldarium, or copper for hot water; n, the tepidarium, or 
copper for tepid water, o, the cold water cistern. /, a room 
for the slaves who had charge of the furnace and its appen- 



xlv 



BALNEA. 



dages, furnished with a separate entrance from the street (4), 
and two staircases, one of which led up to the roof, and the 
other down to the furnace. q, a small passage connecting the 
last-named apartment with r, the yard, where all the things 
necessary for the service of this part of the establishment, such 
as wood, charcoal, &c, were kept : it has also its own separate 
entrance from the street (5), and the remains of two pillars 
which originally supported a roof or a shed are still visible. 






ss^v 




y-^yapffBBK^, 



Laconicum, so called because it originated with the Lacedaemonians. 
One end contained the alveus, the other the laco7iicu?n, a semi- 
circular alcove heated by a furnace and flues (hypocausis) under its 
floor. In the centre was placed a flat vase {lab mm) containing 
water for the bather to sprinkle himself with as he scraped the per- 
spiration off. and immediately over it was a circular opening (lumen) 
which could be closed or opened by means of a metal disc (clipeus) 
to raise or lower the temperature. 



The remaining portion of the plan is occupied by another 
set of baths for females, more confined in space, but arranged 
on a similar principle. They have but one entrance (6), which 
gives access to a small waiting-room (s), with seats for the same 



BALNEiE. 



xlix 



use and purposes as those marked c c in the larger set. e, the 
apodyterium, with seats on two of its sides (/ t\ and which, like 
the one first described, communicates with the frigidariiim or 
cold water bath (f), and with the tepidarium or tepid chamber 
(g), through which the bather passes on, as he did in the pre- 
ceding case, to the thermal chamber (h), provided in the same 
manner with its laconicum and labrum (v) at one end, and its 
alvens or hot water bath (w) on the side contiguous to the 
furnace and boilers, which are thus conveniently situated so as 




Sudatorium or sweating-room, heated by flues arranged under the 
flooring (suspensura), sometimes constructed in the walls of a 
chamber, when it was called suddtio concamerata. as in the woodcut 
here given, showing a set of baths from a painting of the thermce 
of Titus, in which the caldarium is divided into two parts — the 
balneum (warm water bath) and sudatory. 

to supply both sets of baths with hot air and warm water by a 
single apparatus. In these baths for the women the tepidarium 
has a suspended floor and walls fitted with flues, which is not 
the case in the corresponding apartment of the larger set. 

The plan on next page represents a private bath (balneum) 
as contradistinguished from the plural balnea, or public baths. 
The distribution and arrangement is on a similar principle to 
that in the other plan. The baths and appurtenances occupied 

d 



1 



BALNEA. 



an angle at one extremity of the whole pile of building, and 
were entered from the atrium through a door at a. Immediately 
on the right of the entrance is a small room (£), perhaps used 
as a waiting-room or intended for the slaves attached to this 
department of the household. Beyond this is the apodyterium 
or undressing-room (a), situated between the cold and hot 
baths, and having a separate entrance into both of them, b is 
a small triangular court partially covered by a colonnade on 




Ground plan of balneu??i or bath belonging to the suburban 
villa of Arrius Diomedes, at Pompeii. 

two of its sides, in the centre of which, and in the open air 
(excepting that it had a roof overhead supported by two 
columns at opposite angles), was the cold water bath (c) piscina 
in area, c is the tepidarium ; d, the caldarium (see the illus- 
trations to the other plan) ; d, the reservoir ; e, a room for 
furnace-slaves, which had a stone table in it (e) and a staircase 
leading to an upper story on the roof;/, the cistern for cold 
water ; g 9 the boiler for tepid water ; A, the boiler for hot water; 
i, the furnace — all arranged as in the public baths. 



THERMAE. 

i. Therms — literally, hot springs; thence a bath of hot water, 
whether warmed by natural or artificial heat. From this the 
name was subsequently transferred to the buildings which 
contained a set of baths, including cold as well as hot, and 
vapour as well as water baths ; such, for instance, as those 
bequeathed by Agrippa to the Roman people, of which the 
noble edifice now called the Pantheon at Rome formed one of 
the apartments. In this general sense the name is nothing 
more than a new term for balinece. 

2. But after the age of Augustus, when the Romans culti- 
vated the arts of peace, and expended a portion of the tributary 
wealth acquired from their extensive dominions in the embel- 
lishment of their Capitol, the name tJwmce was applied par- 
ticularly to those magnificent establishments modelled after 
the plan of a Greek gymnasium, but constructed on a still 
more sumptuous and extensive scale, which, in addition to 
conveniences for all kinds of bathing, contained rooms for 
intellectual conversation and philosophical discussion, libraries, 
picture galleries, apartments for games and exercises, open and 
shaded walks ; covered corridors and porticos for running, 
leaping, racing, and other gymnastics ; as well as every appur- 
tenance which could conduce to the intellectual or physical 
enjoyment of a wealthy and luxurious population. Very 
extensive remains of ther?na are still to be seen at Rome. 

The illustration on page lii shows the ground plan of the 
therma of Caracalla. The dark parts exhibit the actual 
remains, the light ones are restorations. The names and uses 



lii 



THERMS. 



of the several apartments are to a certain extent conjectural, 
excepting where the ruins point to the original intention. 

a a, a colonnade fronting the street annexed to the original 
building by Heliogabalus in part, and completed by Alexander 
Severus. The range of small apartments behind this colonnade 
are supposed to have been separate bathing-rooms, with an 




IvllHlH^HS^lWSIISII 



Thermcc, ground plan of hot and cold baths, colonnades, exercising 
grounds, libraries, discussion-rooms, and picture galleries ; theatre- 
like space for races, corresponding very much to the Greek yvjivdoia. 

undressing-room (apodyterium — see page xlv) attached to each 
for the use of persons who did not wish to bathe in public. 
b, the entrance. c c c, three single corridors round the 
central pile of buildings, with a double one (d d) on the south- 



THERMAE. Hii 

west, e e, exedrce for philosophers and literary men to sit and 
converse in, constructed with a semicircular absis or alcove, 
remaining on the left side, round which the seats were ranged. 
f f, corridors like the Greek xysti in front of the exercising 
ground, and having a separate apartment at each end, which 
probably served for some of the games or exercises adopted 
from the Greeks. g g g g, open walks (Jiypczthrce ambula- 
tiones), planted with trees and shrubs, and laid out with vacant 
spots between for active exercises, h, the stadium (see the 
annexed illustration), with seats round for spectators to view 
the racing and other exercises performed in it ; hence also 
termed theatridium. In the general plan the * stadium was very 
like the Roman circus, with the barrier (spina) and stalls 
{car ceres) forming a narrow oblong area, terminated in a semi- 
circle at one end and by a straight line at the other, a is the 
starting-place, b the other end of the stadium. 




* Stadium, racecourse for foot-racing, 606^ English feet long. 

The works at the back of the stadium in the plan to thermce 
contain the water tanks, and furnaces below them, which 
heated the water for the baths to a certain temperature before 
it was conveyed by pipes into the coppers immediately ad- 
joining the bath-rooms, with 1, the general reservoir (castellum), 
and j, a portion of the aqueduct which supplied it. The other 
apartments at this extremity of the structure were probably 
intended for games or exercise of some sort. The central 
pile of buildings contained the bathing apartments, of some of 



liv THERMAE. 

which sufficient traces remain to indicate their uses. N, natatic, 
a large swimming bath, flanked by a suite of rooms on each side, 
which served as undressing-rooms (apodyteria, see page xlv), 
and chambers for the slaves (capsarii) who took charge of the 
clothes while their owners were bathing. o, the caldarium 
(see illustration to caldarium on page xlvii), with four baths 
(i, 2, 3, 4) for warm water (alvei) in each of its angles, 
and a Idbrum (5, 6) on each flank. The steps still remain 
which conducted into the baths, and part of a pipe through 
which the water was introduced into one of them. The roof 
over the central part, as well as that of the preceding one (n), 
was supported upon eight immense columns. The apart- 
ments beyond contained the lacouicum (see page xlviii) or 
vapour bath, for which the circular room (p) served, q q were 
cisterns for water near the bath-rooms, and filled from the 
tanks at the further end of the edifice. The two spacious 
apartments (r r) within the lateral corridors on each flank 
were covered rooms for exercise in bad weather. The re- 
maining ones on the further side, under the double portico 
(s s), were two cold plunging baths (baptisteria — see page xlvi), 
with an oiling room (elceoihesium, t t) and a cold chamber 
(frigidarium, u u) on each side. The whole exterior occupied 
one mile in circuit ; and the central pile had an upper story, 
traces of which remain, where the libraries and picture galleries 
were probably situated. 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 

Toga. — The distinctive national dress and principal outer 
garment of the Roman people was of white wool, except in 
cases of private mourning, or amongst the poorest classes, 
who could not afford to have it frequently cleaned, in both 
which cases dark wool of the natural colour was employed. 
The size and manner of adjusting the garment was modified 
according to the age in which it was used. 

The woodcut below shows a figure adjusting a toga used 
in early times. This sort of toga was made of a lunated or 
semicircular piece of cloth, of moderate dimensions, so as not 
to form any bend or sinus across the chest. The numerous 




Toga used in early times. 

parallel folds at the extremities were produced by drawing the 
hollow edge of the garment into a straight line, or tight across 
the back, which constitutes the first process in adjusting the 
drapery to the person, as exhibited by the figure. After the 
centre of the smallest or upper curve had been raised against 



lvi 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 



the back of the neck, both ends were drawn over the shoulders 
so as to hang down perpendicularly in front, but with no 
brooch under the chin ; the right one was then taken up and 
drawn tight under the chin, and then cast over the left shoulder, 
so that the extremity fell like a lappet down the back, in 
which case both the arms would be covered by the drapery. 

But if the wearer wished to leave his right arm free for action, 
as shown by the engraving below on the left, instead of drawing 
the right side over the top of the shoulder he passed it wider the 
armpit (see the figure on page lv), and then threw it over the 





Figure with toga of early times ad- Toga of increased but mode- 

justed so as to leave the arm free rate size, such as the one 

for action. called neque restricta neque 

fusa* worn in the time of the 
republic. 

opposite shoulder. All togas of the kind shown by the left- 
hand engraving were termed togce restricts, i. e. y togas of less 
dimensions than those afterwards used. The engraving on the 
right hand shows a toga of the same character in outline, but of 
larger dimensions, which made it necessary to adopt some altera- 
tion in the manner of adjusting it, and led to the formation of a 
very short fold (sinus per -quam b?-evis). The object of this sinus 
was to carry off the additional length given to the drapery by 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 



lvii 



depressing a certain portion of it in front of the person, in order 
that the end cast over the shoulder might not hang too low 
behind. It will be perceived from the illustration that the 
right side crossing the chest is depressed a little in front, in- 
stead of being drawn close under the chin, or tight under the 
armpit, so as to form the sinus, and thus to create a bed for 
the arm to rest in, leaving only the hand and a small part of 
the chest exposed. 

This is the attitude intended by the expression " brachium 
veste con.ijiebatiw" and was the one commonly adopted by the 
orators of the republic. 

The next woodcuts show the ample toga (togafusa*), or last 
style, which prevailed in the age of Augustus and the succeeding 
emperors, and its different appearance is caused merely by its 
increased size. It was enlarged until its outer circumference 





* Togafusa, or ample toga worn in the Augustan age and afterwards. 

formed a complete circle (rohi?ida\ when spread out upon the 
ground in the manner of an Italian or Spanish cloak, the inner 
edge being likewise hollowed out as in the preceding instances, 
but in such a manner as would produce a greater breadth of 
fold when wound round the person, as indicated by the expres- 
sion apte ccesa. It was first put on the left shoulder in such a 



lvili TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 

manner that about a third of its entire length covered the left 
side, and fell down in front of the wearer to the ground between 
the feet, as shown by the parts marked i in both the front and 
back views in the illustrations on page lvii. The rest was 
passed behind the back, and under the right arm, then turned 
down or doubled together at about the middle of its breadth, 
carried across the front of the body, and thrown over the left 
shoulder, so that it hung down to the heels, as shown by the back 
view in the right-hand w r oodcut on page lvii. The portion thus 
folded down produced a double sinus, one formed by the outer 
edge of the drapery folded over, which in example referred to falls 
to the level of the knees (2), and in other statues reaches still 
lower, so as to set a little above the under edge of the drapery, 
ima toga, which was considered most becoming (decentissimus) ; 
the other was produced by the double part of the fold (4), and 
proceeding, as above mentioned, from under the right arm to 
the top of the left shoulder, so as to present the appearance of 
a shoulder belt (balteus), which should lie as it does here, easily 
across the breast, and not be drawn so straight and tight as in 
the earliest manner (shown by the left-hand illustration on page 
lvi), nor yet so loose as in the Greek style exhibited by the right- 
hand woodcut (nee strangulet, nee fluat) on the same page. 
Lastly, as the end of that side which was first put over the left 
shoulder would have trailed upon the ground and impeded the 
motion of the wearer, in consequence of the great length of the 
entire piece of drapery, a part was drawn up from underneath 
this belt, or upper sinus (4), and turned over it in a small round 
fold, termed umbo, which thus kept it at a proper level. 

The toga prcetexta, worn by free-born children of both sexes, 
as well as the chief magistrates, dictators, consuls, praetors, and 
aediles, kings, and some priests at Rome and in the colonies, was 
like the ones already shown, except that it was ornamented with 
a broad border of purple. 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 



lix 



The toga pur a, or virilis, was made of white wool, without 
ornament or colour, and worn usually by men. 

The illustration below on the left hand shows the toga picta* 
or toga ornamented with embroidery, originally worn by the 
consul at his triumph, but under the empire by the consuls 
generally, and praetors when they celebrated the Circensian 
games. The figure represents the consul in his character of 
president of the games holding up a handkerchief {inappa) as a 
signal for the races to commence. 





Toga J: i da, or embroidered toga. 



t Palla as worn by the ladies of 
Rome. 



f Palla. — Though not quite identical with the Greek palla, still 
the dress worn by the ladies of Rome was similar enough to it to 
justify its being called by the same name. The woodcut above 
on the right hand shows the priestess Livia with a palla on. 
The undermost garment, which comes close up to the throat, 
and has sleeves looped down the fleshy part of the arm, is the 
under tunic or stola (see illustration to stola on next page) ; over 
this is seen the palla, with its back and front edges fastened to- 
gether by clasps upon the shoulder points, while a large veil 
(amculus) is finally thrown over the whole, in the manner stated 
by Ovid, Met., 14, 262, and implied by Livy, 27, 4, " pa Ham 



lx TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 

pictam cum amiculo purpureo" where the diminutive expresses 
fineness of texture. The skirts of the palla are concealed by 
the outer drapery, so that its actual length cannot be ascer- 
tained, but it probably did not reach much below the knee, so 
that it might not hide the flounce (institd) of the sto/a, the 
lower edges and plaits of which are seen over the feet and on 
the ground. In addition to this the lady wore a chemise 
{tunica intima) next the skin. 

Sto/a, the female robe which constituted the characteristic 
feature in the attire of a Roman matron, as the toga did in 
that of the male sex. It was a tunic made very full, and some- 
times with long sleeves ; at others with short ones fastened 
down the fleshy part of the arm with clasps, but put on as an 



*£>/£ 




Stela, the female robe corresponding to the toga of the men. 

indumentuni over the chemise (tunica intima), and fastened with 
a double girdle (succincta), one under the breast and the 
other over the hips, so as to produce an ample display of 
small irregular folds (rugce) when compressed by and drawn 
through its ligatures. Thus far die sto/a does not materially 
differ from the outer tunic usually worn by the Roman ladies. 
But what constituted its distinguishing feature was an appendage 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. Ixi 

termed instita, sewed on under the girdle (subsuta), Hor., Sat. L, 
2, io 5 and trailing behind so as to cover the back half of the 
feet {inedios pedes) from the ankle bones {talos). The figure on 
page lx. is supposed to be Veturia, the mother of Coriolanus. 
The instita was not a circular flounce added all round to the 
tunic, but a long breadth or scarf, hanging behind and conceal- 
ing the heels or half the feet. 

Tunica. — The ordinary and principal under garment of the 
Greeks and Romans of both sexes, corresponding very nearly 
in its general form, use, and character with the shirty the 
chemise, the frock, or the blouse of modern times. 

i. (Xt-uv antyitiavyciKog, colobium.) The ordinary tunic 
of the male Greek and Roman consisted of a plain woollen 
shirt girded round the loins, and reaching to the knees or 
thereabouts, with two short sleeves which just covered the del- 
toid muscle, or upper portion of the arms as far as the armpit 
(jua<7x«X?j) . The working population wore it in their daily 




Ordinary plain woollen tunic. 

pursuits, as the above woodcut shows ; but the upper classes, 
and, indeed, most others on festivals and holidays, when they 
were dressed in full attire, had either the toga or some garment 
over it if Roman, and the pallium, or some other Greek gar- 



lxii 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 



ment if Greek, which of course in the annexed figures hides 
most of the under vest or tunic. The figure on the left is 
supposed to be Aristides with the pallium over his tunic, and on 
the right a Roman with his toga outside his. These two articles 





Figures representing Aristides on the left, with his pallium over his tunic, 
and a Roman on the right with his toga over it. 

constitute the complete attire usually worn by the great mass of 
the free population in ancient Greece and Italy, and are as 
intimately connected as the shirt and coat of modern times. 




Tunica, or ^irwv, with only one short sleeve. 
2. A tunic (Xitoju krepufiaaXaXoc) made with only one short 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 



lxiii 



sleeve covering the deltoid muscle of the left arm as far as the 
armpit, as shown by the figure at the bottom of page lxii, which 
represents a young slave going to market with a purse in one 
hand and a basket in the other. 

3. ('E&.jju/c, exomis.)* A tunic which only covered the left 
shoulder (w^oc), leaving the right one entirely exposed, as shown 
by the figure on the left below. It was often made of fur, and 
commonly worn on the stage, by the labouring population, 
slaves, artists, and even females addicted to the chase or war, 
as by Diana and the Amazons. 






* Tunic called exomis, f Tunic called iirwixig. J The slit tunic. 



4. ('E7rw/i/c )f A tunic worn by the females of Greece, so 
called because fastened with brooches on the top of each 
shoulder at the point where it joins the collar bone. It was 
of wool, and fastened by a girdle worn low upon the hips. See 
the middle woodcut. 

5. (2x tr/ ™£ X lT <*»'-)% The slit tunic, which was only sewed 
close up from the bottom on the left side, leaving a long slit on 
the right for the purpose of allowing free action to the limbs, 
and through which the greater part of the thigh would be seen 
in active exercise. It was usually fastened by brooches on the 



lxiv 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 



shoulder, as in the middle figure, one of which maybe supposed 
to have come undone in the right-hand figure. 

6. Tunica manicata, or manuleata (x LT ^ y x f 'P^ w ™c> or Ka P~ 
7tw-oc). A tunic with long sleeves reaching down to the hands 
or wrists, like the French blouse. In the early age long sleeves 
were not worn by the male population either of Greece or 
Italy, nor generally by females, but they were afterwards adopted 
as a luxury from the foreigner, and became very common. 




Tunic with long sleeves down to the hands or wrists. 

The figure is supposed to represent the pcedagogus^ or children's 
attendant, in the celebrated group of Niobe; and he was of 





r J y ;mica talaris. 



f Hercules as a tragic actor. 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 



lxv 



course a slave and foreigner, who taught the Roman children 
Greek, as a French bonne might teach English children 
French. 

7. * Tunica talaris {x lT ^ v ™$nPwY A tunic with long skirts 
reaching down to the ankle joints, commonly worn in early 
times by both sexes of the Ionian colonies, and in use at 
Athens until the time of Pericles. It was sometimes very full 
and loose over the arms, as in the case of the figure of a female 
on the left, and sometimes reaching down to the wrists, as 
shown by the example on the right of a tragic actor f in the 
character of Hercules (see page lxiv). The Romans considered 
this tunic as extremely unmanly, and never adopted it as part 
of their male national costume. 

8. Timica muliebris. A woman's tunic, generally longer and 
closer than those worn by men, and fastened by a girdle imme- 




Tunica muliebris, or woman's tunic. 



diately under the bosom, instead of round the loins. The 
middle figure on page lxiii shows the tunic of the Dorian 
women, which is an exception to the usual style ; that of the 
Ionian women is shown by the left-hand fgire of the two on 
page lxiv, and the example above shows the same article with a 
half-sleeve reaching nearly to the elbow, and having a long slit 



Ixvi 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 



on the outside, the edges of which are connected at intervals by 
a set of studs or brooches, so as to leave a series of open loops 
between them. The article on stela shows the principal tunic 
of the Roman lady. 

9. Tunica interior and intima. The under and undermost 
tunic. Both sexes were in the habit of wearing two tunics, and 
persons of delicate constitutions sometimes would put on as 




The under and undermost tunic. 



many as four, in which case the outer one is the tunic (tunica), 
and the under one tunica interior, or intima. The above 
illustration shows a figure in two tunics very distinctly 




clad in the tunica interior. 




Figure of a Greek female 
taking off the tunica interior. 



TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 



lxvii 



marked, the under one with long sleeves and a skirt which 
reaches halfway between the knee and the ankle ; the outer one 
with short sleeves and a skirt which terminates at the middle of 
the thigh, and a girdle round the waist, which compresses both. 
But the ordinary kind of tunic worn next the skin by women 
was made with short sleeves, and rather loose round the neck; 
very much like a modern chemise, as shown by the examples 
at bottom of page lxvi, the one on the left from a Roman bas- 
relief, and the one on the right representing a Greek female 
taking off her chemise. 

Another sort of tunic, called recta* (opQooTaliao) was some- 
times worn, w%ven in one piece all round like our stocking, 
which filled in to the waist, and took the form of the figure 
without requiring any girdle to keep it adjusted to the person, 




* Recta, or tunic woven in one piece. 

as was necessary with the common tunic, which was made of 
equal width from top to bottom. It consequently hung down 
in straight {redd) folds from the neck to the feet, as the 
annexed figure of Ceres shows. 

The expression tunieatus corresponds often with our phrase 
"in his shirt," as opposed to togatus, "in his coat;" so the 
phrase tunicata qiries means either the ease and independence 
of country life, as in dishabille, or the reverse, indicating 



lxviii TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 

that a person is obliged to lay aside his toga to work in his 
tunic. 

So in Horace, Ep. i., 7, 65, of the lower classes, whose daily 
occupations compelled them to wear a tunic, only without the 
toga. 



SATIRE L 



ERRATA TO BOOK I. OF THE SATIRES. 

Page 5, two lines from bottom, after " Ro??ie" read "to answer to his 
hail" 

Page 7, Note 3, for "bushels" read "pecks" and " six thousand" for 
"25,000" in text. Three lines lower, for " nie" read "71" 

Page 8, eight lines from the bottom, after "heart" read " and when at 

home." 

Page 9, omit the word " Horace " to the paragraph. 
Page 17, line 12, omit the word "at" 
Page 57, line 9, for "jame" read "fane." 
Page 64, line 2, omit the word "up." 



cockcrow knock at his door, says, " Happy 
husbandmen ! " Another, dragged from coun- 
try seat to Rome, declares that those 
alone are blest who live at Rome. The 



lxviii TOGA, STOLA, TUNICA, AND PALLA. 

that a person is obliged to lay aside his toga to work in his 
tunic. 

So in Horace, Ep. i., 7, 65, of the lower classes, whose daily 
occupations compelled them to wear a tunic, only without the 
toga. 



SATIRE I. 



This Satire is directed against the habit of finding fault with fate, and the 
envy of others' condition, that was then so prevalent among men, and 
declares the cause of this habit and envy to be the practice of amassing 
money without spending it ; and of deluding one's self with the idea of 
enjoying old age and wealthy ease at some future time, that never really 
comes. The Augustan age was one of foppery rather than crime. 



Horace. How is't, dear Patron, that no man 
lives happy in that lot which or fixed choice 
has given him, or chance thrown in his way, 
but praises those who follow opposite pur- 
suits to his ? 

" Blest are ye merchants,*' says the soldier, 
now worn out in limb by hard campaigns. 
And yet the trader, when the ^erce winds ^S *SZ? 
toss his bark, says, " Warfare is to be pre- 
ferred to this."- 2 Well, pray why not?^^**^- 
They meet in battle's shock, and in brief and answers 1U 
space comes speedy death, or gladdening 
victory. 

Again, the man who's skilled in precedents 
of equity and written law, when clients at 
cockcrow knock at his door, says, " Happy 
husbandmen ! " Another, dragged from coun- 
try seat to Rome, declares that those 
alone are blest who live at Rome. The 



6 SATIRE I. 

other cases of this kind — so numerous are 
i Literally, are able to t h ev — ! would stop the most persistent argu- 

tire out r abius, who was J r i o 

a Roman knight, remark- ftient. 
able for pertinacity in 

philosophical argument. To save my taking up your time, just hear 
the issue of all this. If any god were but to 
say, " Well, here : I'll see your wishes 
carried out ; for you, who were just now a 
soldier, shall turn merchant ; you, just now a 
barrister, shall take up farming life ; come, 
change your places, pass away; you from 

2 Eia is a particle this side, and you from that. 2 Come, come, 

expressing impatience. - 

I say, why do you linger there ? I hey 
would not care to change ; and yet they may 
be happy, if they will. What reason is there 
to prevent the king of heaven from swelling 

3 implying the strength out 3 both cheeks with rage, and vowing that 

of his anger. ° ° 

henceforth he'll lend no kindly ear to prayers 
they make ? But that I may not treat this 
lightly, just as one who treats of sportive 
themes, — although what does prevent one 
telling truth in playful mood, as often tutors 
give their pupils cakes caressingly, to make 
them care to learn their ABC ? — yet still I 
say, to drop all jest, let me search out the 
graver truth. 

The man who works the heavy earth with 
his hard plough : the cheating innkeepers 

of'the wo C r^ is -o k n e e°se r e U s Sf ' 4 ° ne sees : the soldier and the merchant too, 
or "you have." w j 10 rec ki ess speed o'er every sea, say that 

they bear their toil with this intent, that 
when they're old, they may retire to ease and 
safety, when they've gained security from 
want ; — just as the tiny ant, so diligent, — for 



SATIRE I. 7 

it's a case in point, say they — drags with its 
mouth whate'er it can, and adds it to the 
heap it's piling up, for it knows well what 
times may come, and guards against them 
well. And yet this ant when — as some poet 
sa^s, — *" Aquarius makes dull the ended 1 a parody of some 

. . epic poet's line. 

year, — both stays withm its hole, and care- Literally, creeps forth 

fully enjoys what it acquired before; while t0 nQ place ' 

you nor summer's blazing heat, nor winter's 

cold, nor fire, nor sea, nor sword, would 

move from keen pursuit of gain ; nay, nought 

would stay you, could you but prevent your 

class outstripping you in wealth. And pray, 

why love you so with fear to hide in 

stealthily dug hole enormous mass of silver 

or of gold ? 

The Miser. Because, were one to spend it, 
it would dwindle to a 2 paltry sum. 3 The "as" was about 

tt Tr - .- . , , . a penny in value. 

Horace. Yes, true \ but if you don t buy what 
you really want, what honourable use is there 
in mere accumulation ? E'en suppose the pro- 
duce of your threshing-floor comes up to 3 five- * Centum miiia mo- 

J ° x diorum, sc , 100,000 

and-twenty thousand sacks of corn, yet still, bushels. 

through this, you'll not be capable of eating 

more than me ; as, if you were to carry, as 

perhaps you might, upon your laden back, 

surrounded by your slaves, a net-bag full of 

bread, you still would get but just as much 

as one who carried nought. Or, tell me, 

what 't would matter to the man who lived 

on just so much as nature could not do 

without, if he owned i sixty or six hundred than hf ff-acTef ; "aTeT" 

^ means ploughs by means 

a\,i ca r of his servants, i.e., owns. 



8 SATIRE I. 

The Miser. I can't tell ; but still 'tis joy to 
take from a large store. 

Horace. And yet, if you let us take just the 
same from smaller store, why should you praise 
your barns more than our lesser bins ? Tis 

Inon e s rall and rna lthu? J ust M tnou g n vou wanted but a *cask, per- 

^ of a pint. ' haps, or wine-glass full of water, and still were 

2 De impii^ easiness, to say, "I'd rather take 2 with ease from 

and ex difficulty. J 

some large stream than at some pains get 

just the same from this small spring that 

^t^^^%^^ close by; and so it is that the 3 rough 

its current. fl 00( j bears off and hurries on together with 

the bank all whom too great abundance 

gratifies. Yet he who only wants the little 

that one cannot do without, nor drinks from 

stream disturbed by mud, nor loses life in 

Horace here antici- the rough flood. But some one argues : — 

pates, and answers an ° ° 

objection the miser might many men, misled by wrong desire of fame, 
say no sum is enough, because we all are 
rated by the money we possess. What would 
you do with them ? Why, bid them live a 
wretched life, since they act thus of their free 
will; as wretched as, at Athens, some rich 
miser was, who (as they say) was wont to 
thus despise what people said of him: — 
An epic line slightly " Aha ! the Public hiss, but in my heart 

altered. _ ...... T , 

I say I m right, directly that I gaze upon the 
coins in my strong-box." As says some poet, 
4 Horace was going to this is thirsty Tantalus who tries to catch 
Tan'taiJs/' buJ 1 b Inter, the water as it rolls off from his lips. Well, 
^Jterisirc lmieTat his why that laugh ? but change the name, and 
2??!L n t^m^d S bSthen the story's told of you: you sleepless 
& £ e y . philosophers of gloat o'er bags of money gained from every 



SATIRE I. 



Very unsubstantial 



1 Ironical, 



source, and yet you're forced to touch them 
not as though tabooed, or else you feel but 
such delight in them as painting gives the 
sense. Pray don't you know the good of 
money to you, or the use it is ? You may 
buy bread and herbs, your pint of wine, and 
more, all else, which if our nature lacked, it 
would feel pain. Or, pray, is this your joy ? 
To dread thieves' villany, the firing of your 
house, or lest your slaves should steal your 
stores and run away ? I'd ever pray to be 
extremely poor in blessings such as these. 

Horace. But if your frame be seized with chill, 
and then get racked with pain, or if some other 
accident confine you to your bed, then have 
you friends to sit close by the couch, to get 
the poultices, to beg the doctor to restore 
your strength, and give you back to loving 
child or relative ? 

Not so : your wife don't want you to be 
well and strong, nor yet your son; your 
neighbours and acquaintances, aye, all the 
world detests you heartily. And, pray, are 
you surprised that since you value money 
more than all besides, none give the love you 
don't deserve ? Nay, should you think to 
bind your kindred to you, and keep them 
your friends without expense, you'd miserably 
waste your toil, as all those would who tried 
to teach a 2 wretched ass to trot (like horse) a Aseiius: thediminu- 

- , . . . . . _ _ _ tive, among its several 

obedient to reins upon the plain of Mars, meanings, expresses con- 
In fine, be there some limit to your search emp 
for gain, and since you have more than you 



Horace replies to his 
own supposition. 



10 SATIRE I. 

had, why, feel less dread of poverty, and 
now begin to stay your toil, since you have 
gained what you once wished to gain, lest 
you should do as several have done before, 
i Ummidius was no- 'Ummidius for instance (and the story is not 

body in particular. J 

long) ; he was so rich, he had to count his 
sacks of gold, and yet so mean, he never 
dressed aught better than a slave, and used 
to dread until his latest day, lest want of 
life's bare necessaries should o'erwhelm 
2 Like ciytemnestra, him. 2 But a freedwoman, the bravest of all 
wh^kiikd her husband Tyndarus' line, cleft him in twain with her 

Agamemnon. ^^ ^ 

The Miser. Pray, then, what do you bid me 
8 Mamius was a great do ? Live like to worthless 3 profligates, or 

profligate ; Cassius No- # A ° 

mentanus spent ^56,000 like the glutton and the rake ? 

in gluttony and de- . 

bauchery. Horace. Ah ! now you hesitate not to com- 

pare two cases diametrically opposite. I do 
not, when I say, " Don't be a miser," bid you 
turn out an abandoned scamp and worthless 
wretch. 
Tanaiswasafreedman There surely is some difference between 

of Maecenas: nothing ,-, i i ,i j t 

further was known of the the eunuch and the ruptured man. I now 

at er-m- aw o ise ms. ^ q b ac k unto the point from whence I first 

4 "Nemo ut avarus'* set out, 4 I mean that no one miser is himself 

for " neminem avarum.' 

This construction is found content with what he does, but rather praises 

rarely even in Cicero and . . . 

Nepos, and again in those who follow opposite pursuits, and pines 

Satire iii. line 115, of this .... , . ... , 

book. with jealousy because his neighbours goat 

has teats more filled with milk than his, and 
does not (as he ought) contrast his own lot 
with the lot of all those poorer men, but ever 
tries to pass now this, now that man in the 
race for gold. So, as he hurries on, a richer 



SATIRE 1. IT 

man is always in his way, just as the poet 

Virgil says, — "When now the hoofed horse a parody of Virgil's 

swiftly drags along the car from barriers 

let loose;" — just so, I say, the charioteer 

drives close upon the heels of steeds that 

now outstrip his own, nought caring for the 

'man once passed, who's riding in the ruck. . 1 'Auriga,' not 'equus' 

* ° is understood. 

And so it is that seldom can we find a man 

to say he has lived happily, and to quit life 2 Horace was himself 

as sated guests can quit the feast, well pleased slightly blear-eyed but 

° x ' x forgot his own small de= 

with all the time he spent in it. feet in satirizing the giar- 

x # ing one of Cnspmus. 

But stay, I've said enough, nor will I write Cnspinus was a garrulous 

J ° Stoic philosopher. To 

another word, lest you should think I'd robbed rob his shelves of books 

. would mean to imitate 

blear-eyed Cnspmus shelves of books. his garrulity. 



SATIRE II, 

A satire written against every kind of excess, and to show the general 
inconsistency of men. The main argument is contained in line 24. 



1 The term "collegia" And so the 1 guilds forsooth of female flute- 
is used ironically. 

players, the vagrant quacks, the ragamuffins, 

2 As spots of mud clung ballet-girls, and 2 toadies too, — yes, they and 

to the boots, so they clung ° ' 

to the rich. all like them are sad and terribly distressed 

sMarcusTigeiiiusHer- because 3 Tigellius the singer and the music- 

mogenes was a singer and , , , . , ••11 1 

musicmaster,— a friend master s dead. And certainly he patronised 

of Julius Csesar. ,1 -,-> 

them well. 
4 Quotes quite an op- 4 Yet here's a man, who, through a fear the 

posite case. . 

world should say he is extravagant, would 

never give a needy friend enough to keep 

cold hunger from the door. Yet if you ask 

5«'Stringat" implies a third the reason why he wickedly 5 spends 

bougns aP o°f r trees, the all that splendid property his grandfather and 

fE5S£ 1 2!?£ te£ father left, by buying all the dainties that he 

eft bare * can with borrowed means, he answers, Tis be- 

6 The recta narratio. cause 6 I do not care to be thought mean and 

pusillanimous. And so the spendthrifts praise 
him, while the misers blame. Fufidius the 
banker, rich in land, rich too in money 
placed at interest, fears lest he should be 

7 The Romans reck- called both an abandoned scamp and worth. 

oned interest by the , , . ftl . 

month; so 5 per cent, less wretch. ' Sixty per cent, he wrings out 

per month becomes 60 r 1 • • • i 1 • 1 

per cent, per annum. from his principal, and just as men are reck- 



SATIRE II. 13 

less in their course, so he more fiercely grinds 
them down. He hunts up all the bonds of 
young men ruled by angry sires, who, now 

. ° , - / , , , , The Laetorian law 

sixteen years old, have donned the manly forbade any one younger 

-.-,-., cc r\ than twenty-five years of 

garb. Who does not cry out, U great age from concluding a 
king of heaven," on the instant he hears po s^ e 6bits. ransactlOE 
this? 

Well, true ; yet surely on himself he spends _ ^ u £ ^ sed a P° 1 °s ist 
a sum commensurate with what he gains ? 

Not so. You'd scarcely credit how un- 
kindly he will treat himself,— indeed, so 
much so, that the father whom the l comedy J The Seif-Tormemor 

7 J was a comedy of lerence, 

of Terence represents as living wretchedly, the W fither h MenTdemus 
when he had scared his son away, did not drove the son ciinia into 

■* Asia to be a soldier, and 

torment himself aught worse. Suppose a where the father was 

wretched in consequence. 

man were now to ask, " What means all 
this?" I then should answer thus, "In 
trying to avoid one vice, fools run into its 

Opposite." 2 MalthinUS Struts along with 2 An effeminate cha- 

.-,. , 1 racter - 

garments trailing on the ground, yet there 

are men who walk with dress raised even to 

irfdecent height, Supposing it good 3 taste. t » Facetus means rather 

Rufillus smells of aromatic lozenges ; Gar- c ubus!" s 

gonius as strong as any goat. There is no 

happy mean. Some men would ne'er go near 

a girl unless the border of her neat-hemmed 

gown hid foot and ankle too ; yet others only 

look at those who practise lowest prostitution. 

As once a noble left a house of evil fame, the 

Censor Cato's splendid words ran thus : — 

4 "Go on in virtue's course, for right it is that , xt . . , .. .. 

' ° 4 Minima de malis eh- 

when foul lust has once inflamed the blood, our senda sunt, 
youth should go to such resorts, and so keep 



14 SATIRE II. 

1 Cupiennius was a clear of all adultery." Yet l Cupiennius, that 

great rake and friend of . x 

Augustus. lover of the white-robed matron, says, " I 

2 a parody of Ennius' would not care to be praised thus." 2, Tis 

lines — "Andire estoperae ,, , ... .. , n 

pretium procedere recte really worth your while, all ye who- do not 

Qui rem Romanam Lati- . •, , 1jL . . , , 

umque augescere voitis." wish adulterers to thrive, to learn how ut- 
terly they are distressed, and how their 
pleasure's marred by many pangs, — how 
seldom, too, it comes, and often is sur- 
rounded by rough risks. One man has 
thrown himself from some housetop \ an- 
other has been flogged to death with 
scourge ; a third has met with a fierce band 
of thieves, as he runs hurriedly away; a 
fourth has had to pay a good round sum to 
stay the mutilating knife ; a fifth has been 
debauched by vilest slaves. Indeed, e'en 
this occurred : — some man deprived th* 
adulterer of power to err again. The town 

3 a clever lawyer, not said, "Legally;" but 3 Galba said, "Not so (it 

should have been a fine)." And yet how much 
more free from risk the intercourse with those 

4 servius Tuiiius divi- of 4 lower rank, — I mean the freedwomen ; 

ded the people into five r . - , . . . 

classes. He wittily ap- for whom a Salustms shows quite as mad a 

plies this division to the , . i -, ,, r -, -, 

freedwomen, who repre- love as the adulterer for married dames. 

sented, to a great extent. -*r,-ri ij-u ii'j j 

the demi-monde of our Yet if he would be merely kind and generous, 

da 5 y saiustius was a ne- so far as means and reason would suggest, 

gafusttthisUlr ° f and as he can discreetly be, he might give 

quite enough to them, and yet not bring 

disgrace and ruin on himself. But, no ; he 

soothes his conscience by this fact alone, 

delights in this, and lauds himself for it, and 

6 origo and Arbuscuia says, "I touch no neighbour's wife." As 

::^t h rTof^t7:r once Marsaeus, he who loved 6 Origo so, the 



SATIRE II. 15 

man who squandered land and personalty 
too upon an actress, said, " I ne'er intrigued 
with others' wives." 

If not, you do intrigue with actresses and 
courtesans, and from them your good name 
gets greater ill than does your property. Or 
is it quite enough for you to shun the class 
or rank, instead of what in each case does 
the harm? To lose one's fair repute, to 
waste the means one's father left, are ills 
where'er they be. What matters it if you go 
wrong with Carried lady or with 2 ordinary girl ? 1 « obiimare," as •* u- 
In Fausta's case, one 3 Villius, jocosely called dbSs unproductive for a a " 
" Dictator's son-in-law," misled, poor wretch, S^id his property- 1 ^ 
by that one sobriquet, paid penalty enough, ^S™^SStS 
-aye, more too than enough-mauled as S&3JZSSL& 
he was with fist, attacked with sword, and *S£ j£^*£* 
e'en shut out of doors while 4 a more favoured ^siS^ vmius An- 
swain was in the house. Well, now, suppose ^sta^he dSter^oi 
his mind made passion's organ see these ills, Sulla ?° °. fte ,V* that „ h f 

. . . was ironically called 

and speak to him like this — "What want Sulla's son-in-law. 

4 Longarenus was a 

you, pray? Do I e'er ask you for a woman more favoured lover, and 

he set some highwaymen 

sprung from mighty consul, nearly hid in her upon viiiius. 
long robes, when I am stung by lust ? " 
What answer would he make ? He'd say, 
" The girl is born of noble sire." Yet how 
much better, how opposed to this your 
trifling, the advice that nature gives, so rich 
in her own stores, if but you cared to regu- 
late them rightly, and to ceas^ from thus 
confusing good with ill. Or think you that 
it matters not should you go wrong through 
your own fault, or through the force of cir- 



1 6 SATIRE II. 

cumstance ? So, then, lest you should rue 
it, give up this pursuit of married dames ; 
for thence you will derive more toil and woe 
than you will reap enjoyment from success. 
Nor are the dainty married lady's limbs, 
though pearls and emeralds adorn them, 
i Cerimhus was an ex- though they equal thine, 'Cerinthus, aught 
T!^ s . celebrated by more delicate or straighter built,— nay, oft 
the ordinary woman's are to be preferred. 

2 The ordinary woman. Besides, 2 she wears her beauty set off by no 

adventitious aid, shows openly her charms, 
boasts not of good points she may have, nor 
makes them prominent, nor tries to hide her 
blemishes. 

See what our nobles do when buying 
horses : they examine them when covered 
with a cloth, lest (as will happen), if a generally 
comely form should rest on weakly legs or 
Literally, the fact of faulty hoofs the shapely flanks, the head so 
fo™£ nks ' beins weU " neatly turned, the arching neck, should whet 
the buyer's wish to buy ; and this they rightly 
do. So don't you gaze on beauties of a 
woman's form with eyes as keen as Lynceus 
had, while her deformities you look upon 
with vision blinder than notorious Hypsaea's 
was. You say, " Oh, what a splendid leg ! 
what graceful arms ! And yet she has too 
lean a back, too long a nose, thin flanks, 
splay feet. You could see nothing but a 
married woman's face, for she, unless she be 

3 catia was notoriously most 3 shameless of her sex, conceals all else. 

And should you try to gain forbidden views 
of charms thus fenced about with dress (that 



SATIRE II. 17 

dress it is that fires your mind), then many 
hindrances you'll meet, — her eunuch retinue, 
the chair she rides in, those who dress her 
hair, the whole dependent crowd, the robe 
that flows down to the ankles, and the close- 
embracing cloak, and much besides that 
would not let you have clear view of all her 
form. J As for the freedwoman, there is no . 1 Al * eT * is * a no t mIli a- 

' tive absolute for quod 

hindrance here ; for you may see her in her ad alteram attinet." 

gauze-like dress, as though she were quite 

nude, and find that she has no misshapen 

leg, nor ugly foot ; then with a glance at her 

side's dimensions you could gauge. Or would 

you wish a trick played off on you before 

I've shown my wares ? 2 Here the adulterer 2 The adulterer, instead 

. * of answering, quotes from 

Will hum these lines, "lllOUgh Oft the an epigram of Callima- 

, .l-i i ,i i .i -1 chus, then often sung. 

hunter course the hare through the deep 
snow, and yet cares not to take it up when 
shot or killed." And will then say, as appo- 
site, " My wish is like to his ; for it speeds 
by what all may have alike, and tries to 
catch what cheats pursuit." 

But, pray, do you expect that all your 
griefs, your passions' ebb and flow, your 
grave anxieties, can be scared from your 
breast by paltry lines like these ? And is it 
not far better worth your while to search out 
what the limits are that nature gives to our 
desires, what 'twould reck not though it 
lacked, and what it could not bear to have 
withheld from it • far better too to separate 
the true coin from the dross ? Pray, when 
your throat is parched with thirst, do you 

B 



1 8 SATIRE II. 

seek cups of gold ? or, when you're hungry. 
1 The rarest delicacies, do you spurn all but the turbot or the pea- 
cock's flesh? or, when your lustful passions 
rise, though plenty are close by at once to rid 
you of love's stings, would you prefer to be 

2 The particle " num " distraught by lecherous desire ? 2 Not you : 

requires a negative an- . . 

swer in English. not I ; — indeed, I love an easy yielding 

Pavo, the peacock, and . 

rhombus, the turbot, were name. And Philodemus says that she who 

both great delicacies. . 

Philodemus was an cries, Well soon ; but give me more, i es, 
if my husband leave the house," is fit but 
for the worn-out priest of Cybele ; while she 
who wants no heavy price, nor lingers when 
she's bid to come, is fit for him. Let her 
look bright, be straight in limb, be so far 
elegant as not to care to look more tall or 
pale than her own form and face allow. 
When such a woman I embrace, I call her 

3 ilia and Egeria were by the 3 noblest ladies' names, or any name I 

the names of noble ladies. . 

like; nor do I fear, whilst I am there, her 
husband should come hurriedly from country 
seat, the door be broken in, the dog bark 
loud, the shaken house re-echo with the din, 
the woman, deadly pale with fright, jump 
from the bed, her maid and confidante say, 
4 Faithless slaves were " Woe is me !" and fear lest her poor 4 legs be 

-o punished sometimes. • ° 

broke ; the wife detected, fear lest she should 
5 The woman could ie- 5 lose her dowry; and I dread lest I be killed 
dowry if taken in adui- outright. One has to run away half dressed 
and with bare feet, to save one's purse, one's 
body, or one's name. Tis fearful to be 
caught, and that I'll prove, though stupid 

F.ibius was an absurd . . 

stoic philosopher. v abius himself be judge. 



SATIRE III. 

A Satire written against those who see their neighbours' vices far clearer 
than they do their own, and also against the Stoics' theory that all crimes 
are equal. 



All singers have this fault, that, in a party of 
their friends, when asked to sing, they never 
are inclined ; while if they wish, and are not 
asked, they never will leave off. 

^igellius, 2 0f WOrld-wide fame, 3 wh0 WOuld l The singer of the day. 
. Ille is ironical. 

do most things for a price, had this defect; 3 "Sardi venaies" was 

-, , . A .. a proverbial expression. 

and him Augustus could not move when- a Sardinian would do 
e'er he asked him thus, — 4 " Tigellius, I pray mon/y. 

, r , ■, , . -, , . 4 The actual words 

you, by my fathers patronage and by mine Augustus used, instead 

„ ,-, i *r i v j of the oblique narration. 

own, to sing ; — though it he were inclined 

himself, he'd keep on giving 5 drinking songs 6 5 "ioBacche." Words 

x ° ° <_» o occurring in drinking 

all through the dinner-time, now in the lowest songs. 

° , 6 The Roman dinner 

key, and now in that which shrillest sounds began with eggs and 

... ended with dessert. 

upon the lute s four strings. Consistency in 

him one could not see; he'd often run like one 

who fled away from foe, and then, again, he'd 

often slowly walk as Juno's 7 sacred basket- 1 1. e., with slow and 

bearers do. He often kept two hundred 

slaves, and often only ten : at one time 

boasting of his friend the noble or the prince, 

and all that's great, and then, again, he'd 



2 SATIRE III. 

i tc Mensa tripes "— say, " Give me a ' table plain in form, a shell 

made after the fashion . . 

>f the Delphic tripod, of to hold clean salt, a dress, though coarse it 

be, which may keep off the cold." Yet had 

you given to this thrifty man, so satisfied 

= Dedes centena miiiia with humble means, 2 ten thousand pounds, a 

HS, or sestertiorum, is 

the full phrase, and means few days after that he would not have a 

ten times a hundred . . . . 

thousand sesterces, or penny in his purse; he d keep awake at night 

rwopences. ... . . r . . . , 

till break of morn, and snore out all the day. 
He outdid all in inconsistency. Now, if 
some one should say to me, " Well, how 
about yourself? Have you no faults ? " I 
i" immo" implies a should reply, 3 "I don't mean that; for I have 

polite dissent from what ' _ , ,, 

has been said, and gene- others, and I dare say not so bad as yours. 

rally introduces an 4 . ..-.., .... 

emendation. As once a spendthrift slandered in his 

■* Maenius was a noto- , - . . . , 

Hous profligate, men- absence °Novius the miser, some man cried, 

tioned in Sat. i.. line 104. ,, TT ,-, , -, -, .-, « r 

5 Novius may be the Ho there ! do you know nothing of your- 
Su? vi., hne i^!" 26 m self: or do you think to cheat us all as 
though we knew you not?" "Not I," re- 
plied the profligate, " I find excuse for what 
I do myself" 

A foolish and excessive self-love this, and 
worthy of a stern rebuke ! But since, like 
blear-eyed men with eyes smeared over with 
the salve, you see your faults so dimly, 
why this keen perception of your friend's 
defects, as keen as eagle's sight, or Epidaurus' 
snake's ? Yet, on the other side, it happens 
that they too in turn search out your faults. 
* Horace probably 6 Suppose a man be rather passionate, and 

means himself. . . 

not quite suited to the nice taste men of 
modern times evince. He might be ridi- 
culed because his hair is badly cut, his coat 
hangs slovenly, while the loose shoe can 



SATIRE III. 2 1 

scarcely keep upon his heel ; yet still he's a 
good citizen — indeed, he cannot be sur- 
passed in this — still he's your friend, still 
wondrous power of mind lurks 'neath this 
rough outside, — in fine, just ! test yourself, * A metaphor fr ° m 

G # ' . shaking a thief, 

and see if nature, or bad practices, perhaps, 
have e'er implanted any vice in you ; for, 
as you know, the weeds do grow apace in 
fields not duly worked, and must be burned 
to stay the harm. But let us hasten to dis- 
cuss this first, — that ugly blemishes the girl 
he loves may have are all unnoticed by the 
lover, or that their mere presence gives him 
joy, as 2 Hagna's wen delights her 3 swain. 2 Hagna is a name de- 

..... r . . . . . rived like our Agnes. 

And oh that in our friendships too we made 3 Nothing further is 

, . . , . known of Balbinus. 

the same mistake, and that a generous justice 
stamped the foible with a term approved by 
all ! Indeed, as fathers do not feel disgust at 
any bodily defects their children have, so we 
should feel none at our friends'. To put a 
case, some father says his squinting son has 
but a pretty cast ; again, all those who have 
a child absurdly small, like Sisyphus, that 
offspring of untimely birth, call him " dear 
little chick ■ " another, with those inward- 
turning toes, they term a "Varus," or in 
lisping tones call 4 "Scaurus" one who scarce 4 Varus and Scaures 

were names of noble 

can stand on ankles out of shape. So, then, families, 
suppose a man lives rather niggardly, let him 
be called but careful of his means ; suppose 
another shows bad taste, and talks in boastful 
strain too much, he (doubtless) only wants to 
show a genial wit to friends, 



2 2 SATIRE III. 

i An objector says this. i Ye s, but his bearing is too insolent, and 
he is much too plain in speech. Then let 
him be supposed to be an open and a truth- 
ful character. Yes, but he is too passionate. 
Well, then, let him be classed with men of 
spirit ; and, methinks, 'tis this that makes us 
friends, and keeps us friends when made. 
But we change what is really virtue into vice, 
and fain would sully the unblemished casket 

2 The indicative is often of morality. 2 Suppose a man of honesty 

used by Horace to ex- J r . J 

press a supposed case, dwells in our set, he's far too spiritless for 

us, we call him " dull," or " dense ; " perhaps 

s Literally , presents his another shuns all snares, and rives 3 a chance 

side exposed to no evil ' ° 

plotter understood). f or no malignant hand to deal a blow, be- 
cause he lives with men among whom revels 
envy's tooth, and the false charge is rife ; 
yet him we call a double-dealing, cunning 
rogue, instead of a shrewd, careful man. 
Again, suppose some one speaks what he 
thinks too openly, or acts (as oft, dear Patron, 
4 Libenter. Freely— I have 4 freely shown myself to you) so as to 

because he knew that . J , J 

Maecenas would not mis- interrupt annoyingly with the first words that 

take frankness, even if . 

gauche, for deliberate come into his mouth one who may possibly 

annoyance. 

be reading, or wrapt m deep thought, we 
say, "Tis clear the man lacks common 
sense." Ah me, how rashly do we ratify an 
unjust law that tells against ourselves ! For no 
one in the world lacks faults, and he's the best 
who's influenced by the most trifling ones. 
A dear friend, as is fair, would weigh my 
good points 'gainst my bad, and turn the 
scale to the more numerous good qualities, 
suppose there be more good ; if he should 



SATIRE III. 23 

care to be beloved himself, and on these 
terms, he shall be placed in the same scale. 
*Let him who fain would not offend by his 1The fu ^ ure is el f; 

J gantly used as a mild 

gross faults, look over his friend's 2 slighter imperative. 

... 2 Literally, by large 

weaknesses ; for right it is that one who boils and small warts, 
claims excuse for his mistakes should give 
the same in turn. 

In fine, since nor the fault of rage, nor 
those defects besides that cling to us poor 
foolish men can be completely rooted out, 
why does not philosophic reason use the 
weights and measures suitable, and, as the 
several cases need, so check the wrong with 
punishment? If any one should crucify a 
slave for feasting on the partly eaten fish, or 
on the soup now nearly cold, when bade 3 to 3 Literally, to take 
clear away, he would by men of sense be awaya 
called more mad than 4 Labeo. And yet 4Labeo punished a 

1 t j -1 1 slave very severely for a 

how much more mad, how much more wrong, trifling fault. 

to act like this ! — Suppose your friend has 

made some slight mistake, which should you 

not forgive, you would be thought morose 

and stern, yet you both hate and shun him 

as a debtor hates and shuns 5 exacting 5. Ruso was a usurer, 

and writer of wretched 

usurers ; for he, poor wretch, when the sad biographies. 

6 settling day has come, unless he can fish e The first day of the 
out from some or other source the interest or m 

principal, just like a captive has to hear, 

7 with neck stretched out as if to bear the 7 /• *•» for the victor to 

. slay him- 

blow, 8 the wearisome description of the man's . 8 /. *., The man's auto- 
own life. Suppose a friend in wine has slightly 
outraged decency, or has thrown down a 9 Horace laughs at the 

,, ill- -liar-. 1 > i i excessive reverence then 

plate once held in old y Evanders hands, — displayed for antiquity. 



24 SATIRE III. 

should he for this be less endeared to me ? 
or if, in hunger, he has seized a fowl served 
up in front of me in my part of the dish ? 
If so, what should I do, suppose he has 
turned out a thief, or has betrayed some 

1 Fide is the old dative 1 trust, or failed to keep his word ? The 

for fidei. . x 

Stoics, who think crimes are all well-nigh 
alike, are quite perplexed in testing this their 
theory ; for common sense, morality, and 
even interest, that is so nearly the prime 
source of justice and of equity, is quite 
opposed to it. 

2 "Animaiia." This 2 When savage men crawled forth upon the 

word is used to show ° x 

that man did not much scarce-formed earth, like brutes, unsightly, 

differ from the brute. ' ' b J9 

not possessed of speech, they fought for 

3 Acoms. 3 mast and lairs with nails and fists, and then 

with clubs, and so, as time went on, they 
used the weapons that experience had later 
forged, until they found out words and terms 
with which t'express cries showing each sen- 
sation \ then they soon began to give up 
war, build towns, and lay down laws to 
check the thief, the highway robber, and 
adulterer. For woman was the foulest cause 
of war long previous to Helen's time, but that 
race perished with their deeds unsung. For 
them, as brute-like, they indulged in lawless 
love, the stronger ever slew, as in the herd 
the bull. You must admit, if you but care to 
read the world's first history and calendar, 
4 The stoics held that 4 that right was introduced through dread of 

justice was a natural vir- . _ _ 

tue, not a necessary in- wrong. Nor can (as Stoics say) unaided 

sitution. _ . 

Nature separate the unjust from the just, as 



SATIRE III. 25 

she removes the bad from good, what we 
should shun from what we ought to seek ; 
nor will their theory prove this — * that one \" Tantandum ut P ec- 

J r cat is for " Eum tan- 

who has but trampled down young cabbages tumdempeccare." 

that grow on neighbours' garden-ground, does 

wrong as great and quite the same as one 

who has sacked temples of the gods by night. 

Let there be some fixed rule t'inflict due 

punishment on crimes, so that one need not 

chase with scourge armed with dread iron 

points one who needs but the 2 milder lash. 2 a leathern strap with 

which slaves were pun- 

For since you say that each case is alike, ished for smaller offences. 

and threaten (would but men make you their 

3 king) to check with just the same restraint "ironical; the stoics 

0/ t J said that the philosopher 

theft, highway robbery, great crimes and was everything great and 

small, I have no fear lest you should chasten 

with the lighter rod one worthy of severer 

punishment. Since, as you say, philosophers 

alone are rich, good cobblers handsome, — 

ay, and kings, — why want to gain what you 

already have ? Here 4 he replies, — " You do 4 some stoic. 

not know what says °Chrysippus, founder of 5 Although Zeno was 

,__... . .. the real founder of the 

our sect. Tis this, — ' Philosophers ne er make stoic system, yet Chry- 

. sippus was often called 

themselves or Greek or Latin shoes, yet still so. 

philosophers are cobblers.' " 

Tell me how. Horace - 

"Why, just as, though 6 Hermogenes sing The stoic. 

J ' J ' . to ? ° 6 Not the same Tigel- 

not a note, he is a first-rate singer and lius as mentioned in 
musician \ or as shrewd Alfenius, although Aifenms Varus was a 

,,, -I'-i-ii iii • i- cobbler at Cremona, who 

he d parted With all tOOls belonging tO hlS came to Rome, and ob- 

j . . . . tained eminence as a 

trade, and shut up shop, was the best artisan barrister and consul. 
in ev'ry kind of work, and so a king." 

And yet, O mightiest of mighty kings, Horace. 



26 SATIRE III. 

the wanton street-boys pull you by the beard, 
and if you do not check them with your stick, 
you're jostled by the crowd that hems you in, 
and, wretched man, you have to break a 
bloodvessel with shouting and with scolding 
them. In short, while you, though king you 
i ibis and sectabitur be, x go to the - farthing baths to bathe, and 

are really futures. 

2 Quadrans was about not a soul attend you there except the absurd 

a farthing, or less in . 

value. Cnspmus. my dear friends will pardon any 

s stoic is sapiens; ergo, wrong that I, no 3 Stoic, may have done, while 

I, in turn, shall gladly bear their failings, and, 

although a nobody, shall live more blest than 

vou a king. 



SATIRE IV. 

Horace wrote this Satire to defend himself from the detraction of those 
who tried to take away his reputation as a poet, on the ground that he 
ignored the artificial style of writing then so much in vogue, and used too 
much freedom in satirizing others. He quotes the best writers of comedy in 
former times as having used the same licence without reproof. 



The poets Eupolis, Cratinus, Aristophanes, 

and l other comic writers of old times, would i Such as Pherecrate? 

with great freedom satirize all those whose and E P icharmus - 

character deserved to be so accurately drawn, 

since they were villains, thieves, adulterers, 

cut-throats, or otherwise notorious. Now, on 

the writers I have named, Lucilius, so full of 

wit, with keen perception, though rough in 

the structure of his lines, entirely depends ; 

has imitated them, with but the metre changed 

or rhythm. Yet, surely, he was wrong in this, 

that he would often, as though quite a feat, read 

to his slave 2 to copy down two hundred lines 2 Puero,amanu. Poet? 

had a slave as amanu- 

an hour with sportive easiness. As he rolled ensis. 

incoherently along, there were some lines 

one fain would take away ; besides, he was 

verbose, and 3 shirked the toil composing 3 Literally, was slow to 

gives, — that is, composing as one should, for 

I care nought for quantity. 



28 SATIRE IV. 

i Crispinus was a gar- Behold, the prating * Stoic dares me now 

rulous Stoic philosopher. ....... . . r 

The words— "For the to try my skill with his, and that, too, for 

least sum I like to stake," - ,. T ,.. , TT 

impiy that Crispinus felt the smallest sum I like to stake. He says, 

so sure of victory, that he ,, m i «r -n , -i i , i, i 

would stake much more Take, if you will, your tablets, — let a place, 

necessary. a versary l and time, and umpires be assigned us, — let 

us see which of the two can write the more." 

Thus I reply : — The gods have blessed me 

2 The mind gives us much in making me possess a 2 mind of poor 

the ideas to express in . 

words. and trifling powers, that but seldom clothes its 

thoughts in words ; while you, as you prefer, 

use speech that sounds like wind shut up in 

goatskin bellows, ever struggling to get 

s a garrulous poet who f ortri . £'en 3 Faxinius thinks he is blest, be- 

was jealous of Horace. 

cause a bookcase, with his precious works 

4 By his admirers. an d portrait of himself, is 4 offered him un- 

asked • while no one reads the lines I write, 
who shrink from indiscriminate recital, for 
the reason that, as most men merit blame, so 
there are some who hate this style of mine. 
Just pick me any one you will from out the 
general class of men. He is afflicted (you 
will find) with avarice or hapless thirst for 
power. Another is distressed with mad desire 
for married women's love ; a third with love 
for boys ; a fourth the sheen of plate at- 

5 Aibius was not re- tracts : 5 a fifth beholds with rapt amaze 

markable for anything ' t 

else. bronze statues ; and a sixth goes trading 

6 Literally, from the from the G east e'en to the west, — nay, more, 

rising sun to that with 

which the western dime speeds headlong through disastrous hin- 

grows warm. . . . 

drances, like dust by whirlwind gathered up, 

in terror lest he lose some portion of his 

^Metuens is used, like property, 7 or fail to make it more. And all 

vereor, with ne and ut. . ,, .. ,.. . , . , 

such men fear lines like mine, and hate the 



SATIRE IV. 29 

Satirist. 2 "He's dangerous," say they, "flee iThey assumed that 

every one who wrote at 

far from him. Can he but raise a laugh at ail wrote satires. 

2 Oxen given to toss- 
What he SayS, tO Stilt himself, he Will not ing had hay bound round 

spare his dearest friend ; and will be glad 
that each child, and old woman too, as they 
come back from bakehouse or from public 
fount, should know whate'er he may have 
3 carelesslv scrawled on his manuscript." , 3 Semei. Shows that 

J he did not revise. 

Come, now, just hear a few words on the 
other side. And, first, I will withdraw my 
name from out the ranks of those to whom 
I'd give the term of " bard; " — and really one 
ought not to say, " It is enough to give a line 
six feet," or think all those true poets who, 
like me, write what is more like prose. Give 
him the proud distinction of this name, who 
has real genius, whose thoughts are more 
inspired, whose mouth will, no doubt, utter 
noble sentiments. And 'tis for reasons such 
as these that some have questioned whether 
comedy be poetry or not ; because in comedy 
the language and the subject-matter both 
lack fire and force, — indeed, it is mere prose, 

but for the metre's law. 4 But PlautUS Says, 4 Horace here supposes 

the father, hot with passion, storms because this, 6 an^Tefutes hin? 
his spendthrift son, through mad love for a w^hafe hiltance^ever^ 
harlot mistress, will not wed a richly dowered &*^fiSKS 
wife; storms, too, because he's drunk, and S^"ifi& a £ 
(what's a dreadful stain upon his character) make comedy poetry * 
goes revelling with torches lit before nightfall. 

5 And would 6 Pomponius, were but his 5 Answer to the sup- 
father now alive, hear words aught gentler in po 6 s a ISute' and ex- 
their tone than those (you say the father used)? trava s ant y° uth - 



30 SATIRE IV. 

• imaginary opponent. 1 He certainly would not. 2 So, then, 'tis not 
enough to end a line in words devoid of 
style, if, when one took away the metre, any 
one you please would storm with rage, just 
like the father in the comedy. Were you to 
take away from these lines I now write, and 
5 Literally, the fixed those Lucilius once wrote, the 3 pauses, limits, 

pauses and the rhythm. and ^ rhythm . then make the WQrd thafg 

first in order last, and place the last before the 
first, you would not find the bard's true ele- 
ments when sundered thus, as you would find 
them if you so deranged 4 such poetry as this, 

4 Lines of Ennius. J ° . 

— "When fell dissension brake the iron doors 
and gates of war." Enough of this. At some 
time hence I will discuss the question whether 
satire be true poetry or not; but now I'll 
only talk of this, — I mean the justice or in- 
justice of the hatred felt to this my style of 
writing. Sulcius and Caprius, those fierce 
informers, stalk about, both very hoarse with 
pleading, bearing accusations in their hands, 
both a great source of dread to highwaymen ; 
but all who live as they should live need 
care nought for them both. Though you be 
like to Ccelius and Birrius, the highwaymen, 
I am not like to Caprius or Sulcius, why 
should you dread me then ? And may no 
printer's shop nor column for advertisement 
have book of mine, for common people's 
5 Not the same as Ti- dirty hands or 5 music masters' to defile. Nor 
do I read my works to any but my friends, 
and only that Avhen forced, — not in whatever 
place you will, or to whatever audience you 



SATIRE IV. 31 

please. Yet many men read out their works 
e'en in the open market-place, and many at 
the bath. No doubt, the place, arched in, 
suits well the reader's voice. And this is 
joy to those vain men who never care to 
learn if they do this with utter want of taste, 
or at untoward times. l But some one says, » Some imaginary op- 

. . ponent. 

" You love to injure men s repute; malicious, 

as you are, you do this purposely." 2 Whence 2 Horace. 

got you this reproach to cast on me? In 

fine, are any of those men with whom I've 

lived the author of this taunt ? He who 

disparages an absent friend, who fails to 

speak in his defence when others blame, who 

tries to make men loudly laugh, who aims at 

being thought a wit, who can frame tales of 

what he never saw, who cannot keep a secret 

trust, is a malignant character ; beware of 

him, ye honest citizens. One oft may see 

four guests at dinner seated on the Roman 

3 couch, among whom one will make jests 3The triclinium was 

" ■* composed of three 

both refined and coarse, on all except the couches, called lectus 

imus, medius, summus, 

host, and him as well, when drunk, — when on each of which never 

... . . . . more than four sat in 

Bacchus, who brings out the truth, unlocks a good society. 
man's real thoughts. Yet you, who hate 
malignant rascals so, think this man cour- 
teous and witty, and but free in speech. And 
do you think it virulence and spite in me, 
if I have laughed because Rufillus smells 
absurdly of the aromatic lozenge, and Gargo- 4 stole a crown beiong- 

-,.-. ~ A , , ingtoJupiterCapitolinus, 

mus like any goat ? And yet suppose, when when he was governor of 

1 ,«ii i the Capitol, but was ac- 

you are by, some mention has been made quitted out of regard for 
about 4 Petillius Capitolinus' theft, no doubt £S°* wh ° se fnend 



32 SATIRE IV. 

you would defend him, as you're wont, in 
words like these, — " Capitolinus, certainly, 
has often dined with me, and been my friend 
e'er since I was a boy, and has done much 
for me at my request, and I am glad that he 
lives safe at Rome ; yet, still, I wonder how 
he did escape that trial talked about so 
much." 

Horace replies. This is the virus of malignant hate, — 

sheer malice this. And that my works^and 
heart be free from such defect, I promise, first, 
as I do promise, too, whate'er I can with truth, 
about myself, if in my satires I have made 

The future is eie- remarks too free, or possibly made too severe 

gantly used as an impe- , . 

rathe. a jest, grant me the licence, and excuse it ; for 

my dear good father trained me to do this 
through showing me each several vice, by 
quoting cases of indulgence in the vice, that 
I might shun the same. When he encou- 
raged me to live with thrifty care, and be 
content with what he had amassed for me, 
he'd say, lu Of course, you see what a bad 

iNonne. Expects as- y fe youri or 2 AlbiuS lives : llOW pOOr BamiS 
sent to the question. ** J » - ; r 

2 Nothing further was j s ? G 00 d reason there to stay a man's 

known of Albius, or J 

Barms. desire to spend his father's property." And 

when he checked my wish for some disgrace- 
ful harlot's love, he'd say, " Don't you be 
like Scetanus." Then, again, to save me 
from adultery, when I could well indulge 
a love less criminal, he'd say, " Tre- 
bonius, caught in the act, enjoys no good 
repute. Philosophers will give you reasons 
showing what is better to be shunned, 



SATIRE IV. 33 

what better to be sought ; but 'tis enough 
for me, if I can but observe the good 
old rules the ancients gave ; and while 
you need a guardian, keep your life and 
reputation free from harm, and then, directly 
that your time of life has given you more 
strength of limb, and firmer mind, you'll 
float (in life's wide sea) without a swim- 
ming-belt." So, by his words he trained Literally you will 
me when a boy; and if he bade me choose ^J*£*£ s c e ° e £; 
some course of action, he would bring before fdealTn 7 10 express the 
my notice one of the grand jurymen, and^^J^^^ 
say, " You have a precedent for acting the Aurefcm law from 

J ' F ° among the senators, 

thus." Or was there aught he told me knights, and tribunes, to 

° try criminal cases. 

not to do, he'd ask me this, — " What ? Would 
you doubt if this be shameful or against 
your interest to do, when more than one 
man is notorious for it?" A funeral next 
door dispirits the intemperate and sick, and 
makes them less indulgent through a fear 
of death. And so another's ill repute will oft 
deter young minds from vice. For through the 
training I spoke of, I'm free from vices that 
bring ruin on a man, and only influenced by 
small defects that one may well excuse, and 
e'en from them, perhaps, long life, th' advice 
of candid friends, my own reflection, will 
take much away ; and I do not neglect my 
duty when I go into my study or walk in the 
colonnade, for then I muse like this, — " Yes, 
that is better. I shall lead a purer life if I 
do so. Again, if I do that, 2 my friends will 2 Literally, i shall meet 

° 7 J my friends dear to them, 

gladly meet me. Ah! a certain man was 
c 



34 SATIRE IV. 

very wrong in what he did ; I wonder if I e'er 
shall, unacknowledged to myself, do aught 
like that." Such are th' unuttered thoughts 
I have, which in some leisure hour I spor- 
tively jot down on manuscript. And that is 
one of those defects one may excuse, — 
which, if you will not overlook, the numerous 
i Such as Virgil, Va- clubs of bards will come to aid 1 me (for we 
far outnumber you), and as the Jews compel 
their proselytes, so we will make you join 
this wide-spread set of ours. 



SATIRE V. 



In this Satire Horace imitates Lucilius, who made a journey from Rome 
to Capua, and then to Sicily. The time taken in travelling was fifteen 
days, and the distance travelled about 390 miles. Maecenas, Virgil, Plotius, 
and Varius accompanied the poet, but not on the first part of the way. 
Although a state mission, it rather resembled an excursion. It refers to the 
treaty of Tarentum, made between Octavianus and Antony. 

Modern names are used for two reasons : — First, because they will be 
more familiar to the non-classical reader, and probably to the classical not 
much less than the ancient ones ; second, because they are more manage- 
able and euphonious. 



THE JOURNEY FROM ROME TO BRINDISI. 

First day's jour- La RlCCIA first gave me Shel- The Roman mile was 
ney, from Rome . . . _. . , T ,, 142 yards less than ours. 

to Aricia, now ter in its humble inn, when Id 

LaRiccia, a town , r , . . -r, 

in Latium. 16 left mighty Rome. 

£S ' l A rhetorician, far the best. 1 Longe doctissimus 

Second dav ^ i i * s tne language of com- 

From La Riccia the Greeks then had, Went pliment, as Heliodorus 

to Forum Appii, . was almost unknown. 

now Borgo Lun- LOO. 

f: rmi!e? P0 36 Then B0T S° Lun S° t0 ° k US 

from Rome. ^ _ a place t0Q full of sailors ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

and of cheating innkeepers. Bo^oLunT R ° me to 
We idly made two journeys 2 of the road 3 The A PP ian road, by 

J J J , which they came, led 

from Rome to Borgo Lungo, though it is from Rome to Capua, 

. and was continued from 

but one for active travellers ; 3 nor is this thence by Trajan to 

Brindisi. 
Journey by night TOad of ApDlUS SO bad for thOSe 4 /. e., one feels the fa- 
and un to 10 , , . . a tx x tigue less than those who 

o"clock a.m. next who take their time. 4 Here I travel fast. 



3 6 SATIRE V. 

refuse all nourishment to save day, down a canal 

17 miles long, 

my drinking water of the vilest t0 the temple of 

, . the goddess Fe- 
• ! E ve n n £ w the water 1 kind, and Wait in nO COn- ™nia. Traces of 
is so bad at Borgo Lungo, the canal still re- 
that travellers will not tented mood till all who, like main, and of a 
stay longer than they can m tower near Terra- 
help, myself, were going by boat, had cina, called now 

. . Torre otto Fac- 

dined. da. 

2 a parody of a line of 2 But soon, as says the bard, 'gan night 

Ennius. 1 J ° ° 

spread o er the earth its pall of shade, and 
then the slaves and bargemen heaped abuse 

3 Some slave guarding like this on one another's heads. 3 A slave 

his master's luggage re- 

quests the boatman to says, Here, land where I am. But soon 

land where he is. The . . 

boatman complies ; but the boatman cries, " Ho there, you re pack- 
such a crowd rushes on . .. . 111111 

the boat that he cries out, ing crowds on board \ hold hard, we want no 

Trecentos, &c. ,, . , , ,. , ., 

more. And so an hour slips away, while 
fares are taken and the mule yoked to the 
towing-rope. The tiresome gnats and frogs 
that love the marsh drive sleep away ; while 
now, well drunk with bad, flat wine, the 
bargeman and a passenger sing of " the girl 
they left behind them." At last the passen- 
ger is wearied, and begins to sleep \ and then 
the bargeman idly lets the mule go out to 
graze, and ties the rope fast to a stone, and 
snores reclining on his back. And now day 
just began to break, when we saw that the 
barge made no headway, until an angry 
passenger leaped out upon the shore and 
beat the head and loins of mule and barge- 
man too, with willow club. We scarcely 
oned from sb^T.nT^o" 4 disembarked at last by ten o'clock. 5 We 
"i The" language is ra- wash our hands and faces in thy fount, Fe- 
;!:;;;; bombastic on pur - ronia ; then, after lunch, we slowly travel 



SATIRE V. 



37 



Third t day. three more miles, and come to 
a.m. Distance Terracina's walls, reared high on 
Terracina 3 n imies° cliffs that gleam afar. Maecenas 

20 miles from , i^ 

BorgoLungo. 56 Was tO meet US here; 'COCCeiUS, iCocceius Nerva, the 

from Rome. , , -1 . , , r -u ax. a. great-grandfather of 

tOO, that best Of men, DOth Sent Nerva, afterwards Em- 

„ -j , • . . r r peror, helped to recon- 

as deputies to treat of matters of grave mo- die Antony and Au- 
ment, both well qualified to reconcile friends gustus ° 
once estranged. Here, as my eyes were 
sore, I dressed them with black salve. Mean- 
time, arrives my patron, and with him Coc- 
ceius and Fonteius Capito, a perfect gentle- 
man, as dear a friend as Antony then had. 
Fourth day. We gladly passed through 

Fondi ^ Latb Fondi, where AufidiuS, 2 "the 2 Of course, "Luscus" 
town, 13 miles uv -, „ «.,, is really a cognomen, but 
from Terracina purblind, Was the mayor, and there maybe a jest meant 
60 from Rome' 11 • j- i j ^1 ^ in its application here, 
on to Formic' we ^ we ndlCUled the honours Even Maecenas was con- 
now Mola di i. ^t. j ct j j> tent with the au g usti_ 
Gaeta. 12 miles WOn "V tnat ma( ^ qU On dam " clave, a less richly 

from Rome 1 ' ^ C ^ er ^ > mS wn l te r °t> e edged madTthe bustTi'ng'pom- 

• , , , . , j posity of Aufidius more 

with purple, senator s rich dress, ridiculous. 
and pan of burning coals. Then, wearied out, tius varro BtoenL Sf»- 
we stayed all night in the Mamurrae's town, ce A n s ^fcti^aiiSSn 
where Varro gave us beds, and Capito found S2SS! 81 He %% 

fr.r.A Roman knight, engineer 

1UUU * to Julius Caesar in Gaul, 

fhrou h Sinn' ^^ m ° ming ^^ """^ *c5SA1£l£ 

essa^now Bag- more agreeably, for PlotiuS and ury, and called "decoctor 
noli, a town in .. rormianus. 

Latium, 18 miles Vanus and Virgil met us at 
Gaeta, 99 from Bagnoli, and than them the 

Rome, on to the , , , j j 

little villa near earth has ne er produced more 
pons, now"Pome frank and honest men, nor men 
fromBagnoifio^ to whom another was more 

milesfromRome. dear than me> q^ ^^ k[nd 

greetings then there were ! what heartfelt joy ! 
I never could while of sound mind compare 



3 8 SATIRE V. 

aught to a pleasant friend. The little country 
1 "Parochus" was an house that stands near the Ceppani Bridge 

officer whose duty was to , , i , r j 

furnish to government gave us a bed, A the state purveyors tound us 
bid^Si^ibkiSSariS fire and salt. From this place, in good time, 

as fire and salt. ^ ^^ j^ ^^ ^^ pack§ ^ ^ ^ 

at Capua. Maecenas goes to foffi P ** t Ja£ 
play at tennis, I and Virgil go ^ a o ™> e J2 * o £°™ 
to sleep ; for tennis does not suit <v eiu ?' s villa > " ear 

r ' the Inns of Cau- 

sore eyes and weak digestion. i iur P or Caudine 

J ° < rorks; near what 

Then Cocceius' well-appointed is no ^ called 

rr Monte Sarchio, 

home, that stands just past the 21 miles from 

Capua, and 145 

Caudine Taverns, shelters us. from Rome. 

Account of the 

..&.Vf*™7 « Homers And nOW.my Muse, fain WOUld quarrel between 

Iliad, bk. 11., line 484. ..... . . Sarmentus and 

I that you give a brief description Messius, down to 
of the wordy war between Sar- 
2 Theterm''dcirrhus" mentus the Buffoon and Messius the 2 Cock, 

is the same as the Ger- in ■>• 

man Gackhahn. and tell us too the lineage of both these 

men, who then began the fray. Well, then, 

3 ironical. The Os- the Oscans formed the 3 noble line of Messius. 

cans, a Campanian tribe, 

were notorious for their Sarmentus is e'en now a slave. Sprung from 

vices. . 

such ancestry, they met in strife. Sarmentus 
first says, " Why, I vow you're like an un- 
tamed horse." We laugh, and e'en "the 
Cock " himself says, " Well, I take the chal- 
lenge," and then gives his head a toss. 
Again Sarmentus cries, " Had that wart not 

4 Literally, what would ]3 een cu t from out your brow 4 how terrible 

you do ! J 

you'd be ! since though so sadly maimed, you 
threaten thus." For a foul scar had marred 
the hairy temple on the left side of his face. 

5 Elephantiasis; a dis- Then he made many jests upon his strange 
"r;Vfr e om ampanianssuf " 5 disease, and on his face; he begged that 

JAvcryungainlymove- he would ^ by dancmg 6 Polyphemus' 



SATIRE V. 39 

wooing, for he would not need a ? mask or 1 /. *., the scar was 
stately tragic buskin with that scar. The better than any mask * 
Cock made many smart replies to this. He 
said, 2 " Pray have you, as you vowed you 2 Giving the man's ac- 

. , , 11111 tua l words, instead of the 

WOUld, nOW Consecrated tO the household indirect narration. 

gods your chains ? 3 although you are a clerk, 3 a parody of the cus- 

. , , • 1 , c 1 • •. torn of youthful nobles at 

your mistress right of ownership is quite as Rome, who offered their 

_ j • r 1 i'i (bullae) ornaments to the 

good ; m fine, why did you ever run away, household gods at the 
when but a 4 single pound of meal was quite ^of sixteen and a half 
enough for you, so lean a manikin **J£T&&£Z'' 
With such amusement, we quite pleasantly ofmealaday ' 
prolonged that meal. Straight from the 
Seventh day. inns of Caudium, we bend our 

l rom Cocceius 

villa to Beneven- steps to Benevento, where the 

turn, now Bene- 
vento, 12 miles host, as with officious zeal he 

from the Inns of 

Caudium, and turns some thrushes most ab- 

r 57 fiom Rome. 111 ^1 

surdly lean upon the spit, was 
nearly burnt himself ! for, as the poet says, 
*« Out fell the fire,and soon the flames strayed rf'^H^SS 
o'er the crumbling kitchen floor, and onward KSLShS^! 4 " 
sped to play around the roof." And then 
you might have seen the eager 6 diners, and r ^he jjg^J^jffijP 
the slaves who feared the scourge, snatch at dinner, and the slaves 

' eager to save themselves 

their dinner in the fire, while all tried hard from a beating. 
to quench the flames. 

Eighth day. And, next, Apulia began tO Velle. Means here 

From Benevento ..... . .. rather the attempt to ex- 

to Trivicum, now shOW ltS hills We knew SO Well, ecute the wish. 

Trivico. Distance . ... , ... 1 •11 • ■, • r™ »i • 

notmentioned.lt hills the AltiriO chills With IHD- The , Al . tl ™ was an 

was a town on the . , , , . , , , easterly wind. 
borders of Cam- Ping COld, which We had never Torret refers to the 
pania. j u J t T" • ■ » - nipping effect of the cold 
passed had not TriVICO S inn upon the herbage. 

From Benevento' close by afforded shelter for the 

Trivico".^ near night, though plagued with 

smoke that brings the tears into 



40 SATIRE V. 

one's eyes, because the fire is fed with damp 
boughs that still have their leaves left on. 
Here I, fool that I was, sit up till midnight 
waiting for a girl who fails to come ; but sleep 
surprises me thus bent on love, and dreams 
portray th' embraces I had meant to give 
and take. From this place we ride quickly 
on for four-and-twenty miles in Tenth day. 
jaunting-cars, intending to re- n^ T ri4o^ 
main at a small town that I can noTc\stIi U Fran' 
scarcely name in verse, but ^ UI £ wn Z 
which one easily may indicate ^nto/^ B from 
by telling features of the place. Rome - 

Here water, cheapest of all things there 
are, is actually sold ; the bread, however, is 
extremely good, so that a travel- Eleventh da 
ler who knows what he's about E rom £ astel 

.branco to Canu- 

will carry on his back a basket sium > now Can °- 

' m sa. 84 from Be- 

of the same still further on the nevento, 261 from 
1 «' Qui locus - refer to road> rp or at Canosa bread is full 

canosa. 

of grit, and it's a place that is not better off 
for water by a single jug than Castel Francois, 
and it was founded by brave Diomede. 
Canosa. Then Varius in sorrow quits the 2 place and 

quits his weeping friends. And Twdfth day 
next we came to Ruvo, wearied From Canosa to 

Rubi, now Ruvo. 

out, like men who've traversed 24 miles from Ca- 
nosa, 285 from 

a long way made softer than R°me. 

it OUght tO be by rain. Thirteenth day. 

From Ruvo to 

The next day gave us finer Barium, now Ba- 

ri. 22 miles from 

weather, but the roads were Ruvo, 307 from 

^ ., Rome. 

worse quite up to Bans town, 
so full of fish and fishermen. 



SATIRE V. 41 

From ee Bari d To And then Fa sano, built be- 
Gnatia, now Fa- ne ath the ban of fountain 

sano. 37 miles 

from Ruvo, 345 1 nymphs, gave food for laughter 1 I.e., it had no pure 

from Rome. J r ' ° m # ° water. 

and for jest, by its mad wish to 
make us think that 2 frankincense without ? pii ny , in his Natural 
the aid of flame will melt upon the threshold tain stJne^was shown e at 

r r Gnatia, which had the 

OI SOme lane. m power of setting fire to 

Let any superstitious Jew w< 

Fifteenth day. . . . _ . . r 

From Fasano to think SO, but I COUld not, for I 
Brindisi. 44 miles . r . 

from Fasano, 893 know now from Epicurus that 

from Rome. - , , . c 

the gods pass their time free 
from care, and that it is no threatening rage 
of theirs that sends down from the heaven's 
lofty dome whatever natural phenomenon we 
see. Brindisi was the end of my long story 
and our journey too. 



SATIRE VI. 

Horace wrote this Satire to defend his reputation from the jealousy of 
those who asserted that he had stolen into favour by a lucky chance, and 
for the purpose of gaining wealth and power. 



Dear Patron, you do not, as most men do, 
sneer at, with cold disdain, all of ignoble 
birth like me, from freed man father sprung, 
because of all the Lydians that ever dwelt in 
Tuscan realms, not one is nobler born than 
you ; nor yet because upon the mother's and 
the father's side you've ancestors who once 
led mighty armies to the field. Now when 
you say it makes no difference from what 
i Slaves were not ad- parentage one be sprung, provided that 1 one 
Stizens; Horace was the be no slave, you then hold this correct 

son of a freedman, and . . , , r ,, , • , -, «^ J 

so escaped any bar of opinion that, before th' ignoble sway and 
SU 2 h The d inother of Ser- reign of 2 Tullius, full often many men, sprung 

vms TulUus was a cap- from ^ ^^ j^ ^^ j^ honestly 

and been raised to the highest offices of 
state. 

(Probe nosti) you well 

know is understood out And then, quite contrary to 

of the words, "persuades . , T . The argument 
hoc tibi vere." Publius thlS, yOU Well knOW that J^SeVl- is that Laevinus 
Valerius Lsevinus was so c . ^ T * , the noble must 
abandoned and dissolute nUS, SOn 01 that ValeriUS Dy indeed be worth- 
that he never got higher , i rp _ _ rn „ less if the people 
than a quaestor in rank, whom prOUQ 1 arqum Once WaS w ho generally 



SATIRE VI. 43 

feel an ignorant driven from his realms and 

excess of rever- 
ence for high fled, was never thought a whit 

birth and title, . 

found such fault more of for his high birth ; for 

with him. 

e'en our public, whom you know 
so well, who foolishly so oft give high distinc- 
tions to unworthy men, who so absurdly are 
the slaves of mere repute, who stare with 
blank amaze at monuments inscribed, or 
statues and wax pictures hung in halls ; e'en 
they, I say, placed the bar sinister against his 
name. 

1 Well, what should I and those who think 1 Nos implies, land all 

- . _ . . who think like me. 

like me do, men whose thoughts are so 
opposed to vulgar views ? For e'en suppose 
the public should prefer to give distinction 
to Laevinus (of that proud descent) 2 than to 2 Decius Mus was of 

,1 j , ,i o plebeian origin, and is 

the parvenu; and e en suppose the 6 rating quo ted to represent a 
officer were to degrade me from the House C s S The duty of a censor 
were I not found to be of free-born parentage, KorSf^d ra^tt 
he would do what I well deserved ; since cltlzens * 
1 should then have higher aims than nature 
meant I should. 

4 And yet, to tell the truth, as sings the * An epic line from an 
epic bard, — " In glittering car alike enslaved, un nown poet ' 
the low-born and the noble glory draws." 
And Tillius, what good to you to wear again Tiiiius is quoted as 
the senator's rich dress you had to lay aside versrun^lblurVdesh-e 
and be elected a commanding officer ? g r Idfd° r from^e W ^nat e e" 
You're envied more than when you held no Sd^^ffiSK 
office under government; indeed, the moment death " 
that each foolish man has bound around his 
leg the shoe-tie made of soft black leather, 
and let flow down from his chest the senator's 



44 SATIRE VI. 

broad stripe, he hears at once such questions 
as — Who is the man ? and what's his origin ? 
Just as all those who are afflicted by the 
mental error Barrus is (that exquisite), I mean 
the wish to be thought handsome, and to 
make the girls, where'er he goes, quite 
anxious to learn each particular, what sort 
,c Sura" strictly means of face, for instance, legs, and teeth, and 

the calf, but by synec- , ' ° ? . 

doche may be put for the hair he has. So one who vows, if he but 

Like members' pro- be returned, that he will guard his country- 

mkes before elections. men5 his ^ empire, country, and the 

temples of the gods, makes all men try to 

learn, and ask what is his origin, and ask if 

(as may be) he be disgraced by mother of low 

birth. 

i Some one of the peo- : "And do you dare, you son of some base 

this to S an P officer "f g2 slave, to hurl down the Tarpeian rock, or 

X? perhaps a hand to public executioner your countrymen?" 

2 The tribune replies. 2 Well, but my colleague Novius is one 

— Horace may mean 7 . 

himself secretly. Novius degree below myself in rank : for he is what 

■was a freedman, Horace " ' 

the son of a freedman, my father Was. 
therefore of better blood. 

» One of the people 3 And pray, on this account,, do you think 
Pauiius and Messaiia you are one of our great noblemen ? Besides 

were great nobles. The . . 

funerals at Rome were thlS, xSOVTUS Will sllOUt SO loud that he Will 

always attended by trum- .. , ... .. , - , 

is, cornet players, drown the clarions and trumpets sound, e en 
if two hundred wains and three large funerals 
met in the open market-place. No doubt 
* Horace speaks here, this power of voice attracts us. 4 Now I talk 
once more about myself, sprung from a freed- 
man father (as men ever say), whom all 
carp at as sprung from freedman father ; now 
because I dine so oft with thee, dear Patron, 
but in days gone by, because, as a command- 



SATIRE VI. 45 

ing officer, I once led a brigade into the 
field. This is unlike the former case, for 
with no justice could whoe'er you please, as 
they might possibly the honour of command, 
grudge me your friendship too, when you're 
so careful in selecting those who merit it, 
and who are far removed from that bad habit 
of place-hunting. I can't say I'm lucky in 
this point, that I gained you as friend by 
accident, for 'twas no chance that threw me 
in your way, for Virgil, best of men, some 
time ago, then Varius told you my character. 
When first I saw you, after speaking a few 
words in broken tones, — (for diffidence that 
checks the speech prevented me from saying 
more), — I did not tell you I was sprung from 
noble sire, nor that I rode around some 
country-seat on horse of purest breed, but Saturium was near 

, , ... , . . r Tarentum, and was famed 

told you who I really was; you made brief f or its breed of horses. 

answer, as you're wont, and more than eight 

months after that, you asked me once again 

to see you, and then bid me rank among 

your friends. I greatly valued this, my 

pleasing you, who sift true virtue from what's 

base, through no high birth, but through my 

purity of life and heart. But if my character 

be sullied by more venial defects and those 

but few, and be in other points upright, 

— as though, to put a case, one should find 

fault with trifling blemishes occurring here 

and there upon a handsome person, — if no 

man shall fairly charge me with the fault of 

avarice or meanness or bad company, if I be 



46 SATIRE VI. 

pure and guiltless, and to praise myself, live 
dear unto my friends, my father was the 
cause of this, who, though but poor with 
small estate, cared not to send me to the 

1 Flavins was the vil- village l school, to which boys, though the 

lage schoolmaster. 

sons of doughty captains, used to go with 

2 out of the several book-bag 2 and with writing tablet hung on 

interpretations this seems ° 00 

the most satisfactory, their left arm ; and on the 13th or 15th of 
iEra, the small sum every month paid their school bills, — but had 

paid for tuition ; octonis J r 

is used because the ides the spirit to take me to learn accomplish- 

fell on the 8th day after r l 

the nones. ments which any gentleman of property, or 

member of the House might get his children 
taught. All those who'd seen my well- 
appointed dress and slaves attending me, 

3 Literally, among a as custom is in 3 a great town like ours, would 

great nation or people, 

butthe wealth of the na- think that means for such expense came 

tion was at Rome. 

^ instead of the usual from some fine ancestral property. Then 
he himself, a guardian of the highest charac- 
ter, attended me as I went round to the 
Professors' lectures. And, in fine, he kept 

Qui honos means pudi- me chastely free from all immoral deeds, nor 
that alone, but even slander's slur; and 
purity like this is virtue's greatest ornament. 
Nor did he fear lest any one should blame 
him, if at any time I were to choose some 
humble calling as a crier's, or that of col- 
lector of the salt-fish revenues, which he 
himself once plied ; nor should I have com- 
plained, but now, through that the greater 
praise is due to him, and gratitude from me. 
Were I not mad, I ne'er should feel regret 
for having such a father, and on that account 
shall not defend myself like very many men 



SATIRE VI. 47 

who vow that 'tis no fault of theirs they have 
no sires of noble birth and wide-spread fame. 
My words and inward thoughts are much at 
variance with theirs ; for just suppose that 
nature bade men live their lives again from 
some fixed year, and bade them choose, 
according to caprice, whatever parents they 
might severally wish to have, still satisfied 
with mine, I would not care to choose the 
highest officers of state for mine, mad, 
doubtless, as most men would think, but 
sensible perhaps in your view of the case, 
because I cared not to endure without expe- 
rience, the burden of such tedious distinc- 
tion. For, at once, more ample means 
would have to be acquired by me, more 
compliments be paid ; nay, I must then take 
one or two companions with me to prevent 
my going alone into the country or abroad, 
more common slaves and hacks be kept, 
and carriages be drawn along. While I may 
ride, if I but care, e'en to Tarentum, on my 
humble mule, the loins of which my wallet, 
and the sides the rider galls. Yet none (Eneid, vi., 88 2 , armus 
will charge me with the meanness they will f r e s " e bu^dy!V s h hert 
charge you, Tillius, with, when upon the sides " 
road to Tibur; five slaves only follow you 
(though high state officer you be), and carry 
with them cooking-pots, and basket for the 
wine. And yet, distinguished member of 
the House, I live with greater comfort than 
you do in this and countless other ways. 
I take a meditative stroll where'er I please ; 



4$ SATIRE VI. 

I ask the price of vegetables and of corn ; 
I often saunter through the public market- 
place and cheating-circus at the close of day. 
I watch the prophesying dream expounders ; 
then I go off home to eat my meal of leek 
and chick-pea, and meal cakes ; my dinner's 
served up by three slaves, a slab of plain 
white marble holds two glasses and a ladle ; 
a cheap saltcellar stands by, a cruet and 
wine-bowl of common earthenware. And 
then I go to sleep, nor think with anxious 
care that I must rise betimes, or visit the 

1 There was a statue law courts where Marsyas (though ugly and 

of Marsyas in front of J >,,,,, 

the Rostra where plead- of stone) snows by the upraised hand that he 

ers used to meet, and . . . 

bail be given, and usurers detests th expression of the younger Novius 

also carried on their busi- r _ ... _ .. 

ness here. Marsyas was iaCC 1 Stay Wlthm my Study Until ten 

a statue of the satyr of , , , - , T - ,, 

that name, and the jest o clock ; then at eleven I go for a walk, 
(i a satyrf was^ug^y or when I've read or written something that 
SSd g tiie usurious ch?ca- ma y please me as I meditate, I dress myself 

N^us°by hold^ufa with oil > but n0t with that mean filth 7 Natta 

dfsgustf'and s g eS Novius f does ? when he has r obbed the lamps. But 

must have been hideous. w ] ien ^ sun ' s nQW k eener ra y S have bid me 

weary go to bathe, I shun the Campus 
Martius, and game of ball. Then after 
a slight lunch, yet quite enough to save 
my passing through the day with empty 
stomach until' dinner-time, I take my ease at 
home. Such is the life of those who are not 
bound in sad ambition's grievous thrall. 
With such a system, I console myself that 
I shall live more pleasantly than if I were 

2 The quscstor was the grandson, son, or nephew of some 2 petty 

such officer. 

officer of state. 






SATIRE VII. 



An account of a noisy piece of litigation that took place in the Court of 
Marcus Brutus, the deputy -governor of Asia, between Publius Rupilius, who 
enjoyed the sobriquet of " Rex," and a certain Persius, * of Clazomenae, a 
city in Ionia. 



NO doubt 'tis quite Well known in every Apothecaries and bar- 
i . ,, , , , , •. t> * b ers ' shops were the 

chemist s, every barber s shop, how Persius, places for gossip. 
half Roman and half Greek, repaid the thing^uffeHTromK 
malice and the spite of one Rupilius, an di/woJd go tothe che°- 
outlaw, surnamed « King." This Persius mist ' s ' and gossip there - 
was rich, and lent large sums of money at 
Clazomenae, and had a vexing lawsuit with 
" the King ; " a stubborn fellow was this 
Persius, and one who could surpass " the 
King" in rancour; boastful too, and pas- 
sionate, and of such virulence of speech as 
to Entirely outstrip our cleverest buffoons in x White steeds were 

proverbially the fastest. 

loud abuse. I now say more about "the 
King." When they could make no compro- 
mise — and you must know that all between 
whom falls out bitter strife, contend with 
fierceness in proportion to their bravery ; 

* Persius was descended from an Asiatic father and Roman 
mother, and was a banker and general agent. 

D 



50 SATIRE VII. 

indeed, between the brave Achilles and 
great Hector, Priam's son, so deadly was the 
feud, that nought but death's last stroke 
could sunder them ; and all because consum- 
mate valour was possessed by both ; while, if 
two cowards quarrel, or a strife spring up 
between two men who are no match, as once 

i iiiad, vi., 234. with J Diomede the Lycian Glaucus fought, 

the duller of the two retires, and sends a 

2 The repetition seems voluntary gift : 2 I say, since they could 

necessary to remove the . . 

effect of the long inter- make no compromise, — these two, Rupilius 

polation. . 

and Persius, when Brutus was the governor 
of fertile Asia, fought, a pair so aptly pitted 
'gainst each other, that no gladiators e'er 
5 ironical. were better matched. ( 3 Like soldiers to a 

battle-plain) they fiercely rush into the court, 
a fine sight both. Then Persius begins the 
case ; the bench of judges laugh; he loudly 
praises Brutus and his friends in court ; styles 
Brutus, "Asia's sun," and styles his retinue, 
" health-giving stars," " the King " alone 
excepted, for he said that he had come like 

4 Because it parched that dog-star so 4 hated by the husbandmen; 

in fine, he poured along his torrent of abuse 

5 Literally, whither just like some wintry flood, 5 where few trees 

seldom is brought the . , , -p, , ^ 

axe. grow on its steep banks. But then Prae- 

He was a native of . , • i 1 j , -r> • i 

Prseneste. neste s son m answer hurled at Persius, as he 

vineyard ai ?o^fsponded rolled on with fluent bitter jest, coarse gibes 
t0 7°Rex l mgsgate * from 6 vineyard picked, a rough vine-dresser 7 
thL^ineranddid'Xr be whom none could beat, to whom full oft 
SS^SKSf^?^ a P asser b 7> thou S h he should cry in angry 
^^Mironi who tones, -"Cuckoo! Aha! you're late," had 
^^ZZ™*^ been obliged to yield. 



SATIRE VII. 51 



1 Literally, Here Persius, now smarting 

^drenched with 7 ° 

La o ti ^ ine ^ ar * , with x this caustic Latin wit, cries 

2 The Greeks 

we much more ut with all a Greek's quick 

polished and wit- 
ty than the Ro- 2 repartee, O Brutus, as you're 

mans ; to suppose ' 

Graecus a mere WOnt tO kill OUr KmgS, I ask 
repetition of the ... 

idea conveyed by you here in heaven s name, why 
brida" would be don't you kill this King? For 
p °Marcus Brutus surely 'tis a task that well be- 

was supposed to - • 

be descended longS tO yOU. 
from L. Junius 
Brutus, who re- 
moved Tarquin. 



SATIRE VIII. 



In this Satire Priapus, a rustic deity once worshipped by the people of 
Lampsacus, and by the Romans after, as a guardian-god of gardens, 
complains that the Esquiline hill was infested by the magic rites of 
sorceresses, and scares them away. 



Pnapus speaks. I once was but a fig-tree log, a useless block, 

when he who carved me, doubtful whether 
he should make a stool or garden-god, pre- 
ferred that I should be the god. So, then, 
I was the god, great source of terror both to 
thieves and birds ; for my right hand together 
with the symbol of productiveness I show, 
keeps thieves in check, while on my head a 
reed stuck up scares off the birds so mis- 
chievous, and will not let them settle on the 
pleasure-grounds Maecenas laid out but the 
other day. (Ere that,) the slaves would place 
the corpses of their fellow-slaves thrown out 
from narrow cells beneath the earth in com- 
mon coffins to be carried to this place. This 
used to be the usual place of burial for all 
the lowest classes in the town ; and would 
Pantoiabus and No- have been for Gripeall, the buffoon, and for 

mentanus were then . 

alive the spendthrift too. 



SATIRE VIII. 53 

This pillar here marked out 1,000 feet 300,000 square feet, 
towards the public road, 300 more towards 
the fields, and on it were 1 these words : — g 1 That is, it was given 
" This ground for burial does not pass to the ™ u biic erpetmty 

* • . „ I-. , 11 The oratio recta is 

heirs as property. But now, one may well g i ven here. 
live upon the Esquiline quite free from pest, 
and take a walk upon a sunny terrace, where 
but a few days ago the melancholy passers by 
beheld the fields disfigured by men's whiten- 
ing bones; although the thief, the fox, and 
vulture that are wont t' infest this place, do 
not distress or trouble me so much as do 
those hags who, with their incantations and 
their drugs, distract men's minds, for by no 
means can I destroy them or prevent their 
picking bones up from the ground, and bale- 
ful herbs; directly that the moon, as she 
2 rolls on her course, has shown her lovely 2"VagaLuna." Soin 

Virgil JEn. i. 742. " Er- 
Orb. rans Luna." 

Why, I myself beheld Canidia, as with her 
sable robe tucked up, with feet all bare and 
hair unkempt she stalked on shrieking with 
the 3 elder Sagana; and pallor had made s Saganahad a younger 
both revolting to behold. They then began sister * 
to 4 scratch the earth with nails, and rend in 4 To mke a hole for 
pieces a black lamb, by biting it ; the gore the blood - 
was poured into the hole, so that from thence 
they might draw forth the shades, — the spirits 
meant to answer them. There was an image, canidia was the wooi- 
too, of wool, and one of wax ; the greater wlstiSwLL Int, ° ver 
one of wool to hold the lesser one in check 
by punishment. The waxen one stood like 
a suppliant, as though 'twas doomed to die 



54 SATIRE VIII. 

By burning, torture, (like slaves) a miserable death. The woollen 
image called the witches' goddess to its aid, 
the waxen called the Fury that avenges blood, 
and then you might see snakes crawl forth, 
and hell-hounds stray about, and e'en the 
moon herself blush and conceal her face 
behind the huge gravestones. And if I do 
not tell the truth, may birds heap insults on 

i a Roman knight so my head, and may that l debauchee called by 

effeminate that his name ... . . 

was changed from Pedi- a woman s name, and Julius his paramour, 

atius to Pediatia. Julius TT . , . r . 

was a lover of his. Voranus, too, the thief, annoy me m the way 

man°of n Quintus LufcSus God's images detest. But why tell each par- 
ticular? how, speaking in alternate strains 
with Sagana, the spirits wailed in sad, shrill 
tones, and how by stealth they hid within 
the earth wolfs beard with tooth of spotted 
snake, and how from waxen image fiercer 
blazed the flame, and how, no unavenged 
spectator, I showed detestation of the cries 
and deeds of these two hags. For, fig tree 
2 The fig-tree wood though 2 I was, I made a noise so natural and 
Tnd split with thTheat, loud, as sounds a bladder when 'tis burst, 
^red g thehags U away. at that they ran off to Rome. Then with loud 
laughter and with merriment you might 
behold Canidia's false teeth drop out, and 
Sagana's high tete of hair and magic plants, 
s Threads of different and their charmed lovers' knots 3 upon their 

colours to chain the - ,. . , 

affections with. arms, fall to the ground. 



SATIRE IX. 



A Satire showing how Horace was annoyed by men of bad taste, who 
thought themselves poets and critics, and tried to gain Maecenas' favour. 



Horace. It happened that I took a walk upon 

the Sacred Road, and, as I'm wont to be, l a favourite walk. 

was wrapped up in some speculative trifling 

thought, when some one, whom I know by 

name alone, ran up, and shaking hands, 

said, " Best of men, how do you do ? " 

I answered, 2 " Tolerably well just now, and „ 2 The phrase wish you 

J * * all success is a mere frigid 

wish you all success." Then, as he followed form of politeness. 
me, I took him up with this remark, — 3 " Can 3 a usual form of 

leave-taking. 

I do aught for you before I go ? " But he 
replied, " You know me well, I am a man 
of letters." 

" Oh ! then I shall think the more of you," 
said I. Then trying very hard to get away, 
at one time I would walk on faster, at another 
stop, or whisper something to my page, 4 when 4 Literally (by hu- 
beads of perspiration stood upon my terror- AowSfcW §d!fch& 
stricken brow. Then muttered I, as he kept tom of my ankles ' 
prating of whatever came into his head, such 



56 SATIRE IX. 

i Boianus was a mad, a s the rows of streets, the town, — l Bolanus, 

passionate fellow, who 7 

soon told those he did not blest indeed were you in having that quick 

like what he thought of . 

them, and so rid himself temper. But when I persistently made no 

of them. Bolanus was a 

surname of the Veiiii, reply, he said, " You sadly want to get away : 

fromBola, a town of the _, J * ' , ... / * _ _/„ 

CEqui. I ve seen it long, but tis no use, for I shall 

stay on to the end ; I'll follow you where'er 
you go from here." Here I rejoin, " There's 
no use in my taking you out of your way, I 
want to go and call on some one you know 

2 Julius c^sar gave it nothing of, he's ill in bed across the 2 Tiber, 

to the people. . . , . „ _ . 

near to the late Caesars park. But he 
replies, " I've nothing much to do, and I'm 
an active man, I'll go with you as far as 
that." 

Then like a miserable ass, in stubborn 
mood, when a too heavy burden has been 
put upon his back, I drop my wretched ears, 
(and say no more). 

Here he begins again : " Unless I'm much 
mistaken, you'll not value your friend Viscus 
more, or Varius, than me. For who can 
write more lines, or who more quickly, than 
myself, and who can dance with more lithe 
grace. And then I sing in such a style that 

3 Hermogeneswasthe e'en our 3 greatest singer may feel envious." 

son of Sardus Tigel- TT . _ . . . , 

Hus mentioned in Satire Here was a chance of interrupting him, and 

iii., line ^, and the Sims T . , ,, TT iT 

Reeves of the day. so I said, " Have you a mother or some 

relative to whom your safety's dear? " "Not 

one," said he, " I've laid them all to rest." 

How blest are they ! I answer, now I'm 

* i suppose you'll 4 left (for you to lay to rest). Pray kill me 

taikmg, me a s t0 you' did now : for o'er my head impends 5 a miserable 

lh ^iock heroic fate which erst when she had shaken her 



SATIRE 1^. 57 

prophetic urn, a Sabine fortune-teller pro- 
phesied to me. This boy, said she, no bale- 
ful drug, no sword in war, no pleurisy, con- 
sumption, no, nor crippling gout shall kill, 
but him a prater shall destroy sometime ; so 
then, if he be wise, let him flee far from those 
who talk too much directly that he has 
reached man's estate. We now had come 
to testa's fame, and it was nine o'clock, and * Between the Capitol 
then he was obliged to answer to the plain- 
tiff's call, or lose his caution money. Here 
he said, 2 Now do, dear sir, stay here awhile. 2 Like our judgment 
But I replied, 3 Nay, by my life, I cannot play \ d Lkemii y> may i 
the advocate, nor know I aught of common pens lf do ' 
law; besides, I am in haste to reach, you si me amas, if you 

. . . _ T _ ... ... love me, was a usual 

know what place. Well, let me see, said he, formula of polite re- 

what shall I do, give you up or my case? 

Oh, give up me I beg, cried I. But he 

replied, Oh no, I won't, and once more led 

the way; I followed, as 'tis hard to strive 

when overmatched. 

He here resumed the conversation thus : — 
" How stand you with your Patron now ? 4 he « Like yourself and 
is accessible to but few men, and has a 
shrewd discrimination ; none have shown 
more tact in their high station. You would 
have a powerful aid, a man who could play 
second to your first, if you but cared to 
recommend myself; why, by my life, you'd 
soon supplant them all." Here I replied, 
We do not live there in the way you think, 
there is no family more free from, more 
opposed to ills like these ; it never does me 



58 SATIRE IX. 

any harm because some man is wealthier or 
better read than I, for each has there his 
proper place. Indeed, said he, you tell me 
something strange, in fact, what's scarcely 
credible. Yet so it is, said I. Then, he 
replied, you make me all the more desirous 
to be on closer terms with him. To this 
I answered, Just conceive the wish, your 
merit is so great you'll take the citadel by 
storm, and he is easy to persuade, and there- 
fore he makes difficult the first approach 
to him. Said he, Oh, I shall do my duty, 
I will bribe his slaves, I won't give up. If 
on the day on which I call, he says he's not 
at home, I'll choose my times, I'll meet him 
at the crossings of the streets, nay, I'll escort 
him home ; you know life gives man nought 
without some toil. As he kept trifling thus, 
a dever grammarian, quite unexpectedly my friend ^ristius met 
us, a man I loved, and one who knew the 
fellow well ; we stopped. He asked me 
whence I came, and whither I was bound, 
and answers the same questions put by me. 
I then began to pull and pinch his arms, 
which seemed without all feeling, and to hint 
by nod or wink that he should rescue me. 
But, with malicious wit and smile, he feigned 
Literally, anger be- not to perceive my drift ; then anger rose 

gan to inflame my heart .-,• -, 1T ■> • t ,, tr 

or liver; the # ancients within my heart, and I exclaimed, "You 

the U s ?at of prions more certainly said more than once that you would 

talk with me of something privately." But 

he said, " Oh, yes, I remember, but I'll tell 

you at a time more suitable than this, to- 



SATIRE IX. 59 

day's A a most important Jewish feast, would 1 a holiday or feast 

you deride the circumcision rite?" Here hips on\L%o& dayof 

I replied, "I have no scruples on that the month ' 

score." "Ah ! but I have," said he, " I don't 

possess your strength of mind, I think as 

most men do ; 2 excuse me, pray, I'll tell you 2 The future is used 

at another time." Here muttered I, To tiv| am y M an impera ~ 

think that this day should have dawned, "Surrexe"forsurrex- 

so black upon my head ! The rogue ran off, 

and left me like a victim ready for the sacri- Literally, under the 

flee. At last, by chance, the plaintiff met 

him, and in a loud voice cried, " You villain, 

s The witness turned 

whither are you bound ? and then to me he the tip of his ear to be 

touched by the sum- 

said, " Here, do you ^witness the arrest ? moner. 

▼ in i it «i/- a 4 Vero, literally in- 

I gladly Went through the required form, deed, has more meaning 
_. T .' - - . . i i • i here, and shows the 

He dragged him into court ; on both sides readiness with which 

r -n •, , -, . Horace complied. 

followed noisy crowds \ and so my patron- Apoiio was the guard- 
god preserved me from this "bore." P a n et s and defender ° f 



SATIRE X. 



This Satire is a defence of opinions expressed in Satire IV., which 
opinions had been unjustly found fault with by some antiquaries who over- 
estimated the merit of Lucilius. 

It also shows with great taste and wit how unable men are to form 
a right judgment, who praise an ancient poet to excess merely from 
an aversion to a contemporary. It also contains several rules for poetry. 

The first eight lines are not found in most MSS., or translations, and 
though they bear the stamp of antiquity to a certain extent, were probably 
written by some grammarian or commentator. 



Lucilius, I'll prove by evidence that Cato 

iA grammarian and the 'philologist Can give, who SO SUDDOrtS 

poet in the time of Sylla. r ° ° 7 rr 

your style, who tries so to correct rough 
2 "Facit" is the eiiip- lines, how full of faults you are ; 2 and this he 

sis. "Hoc"— "quo" — * 

are for the more usual— does more gently in proportion as he is 

eo— quo. ° J x 

superior, and is a better critic far than he is, 

who, the best grammarian of all our knights, 

s Exhortatus is used in boyhood was 3 severely warned by whip 

passively, no other in- 

stance is found. and wet rope s end, that there might be a 

* Literally, our dis- man to play the champion for ancient bards 
^niuc mav refer to against these 4 modern sneers. But to return. 

book 4th Satire .° f this Well, yes, I did say that the lines Lucilius 



feet 



Literally, ran in rough CQmp0Sed were often r0U ghly made, for WHO 



SATIRE X. 6 1 

defends Lucilius so foolishly as not to admit 
this ? and yet this very bard is praised by me 
in the same work for having satirized the 
town most wittily; yet though I grant him 
this, I would not grant him all that's excel- 
lent besides ; for if I did, I should admire as 
perfect poetry the farces of ^aberius. 1 a Roman knight who 

u . . was compelled to act his 

It is not then enough to make your audi- own farces. 
ence laugh loud, — although there is some 
merit in this point as well, — you must be 
terse besides, to make your clauses rhythmical, 
and save their being hampered with long 
words that but oppress the weary ear. 
Again, you must employ a style, at one time 
grave that shows the character of orator 
or poet, as the case may be, and then, 
at other times, a sportive vein that well 
describes a polished wit who keeps his power 
in reserve, and weakens it on purpose ; and 
the satire's jest will generally solve all matters 
of great moment with more spirit and success 
than declamation's gravity. 2 Those authors 2 Eupoiis, Cratinus, 
of old comedy were popular through this ; an lstop anes ' 
in this 3 are models for our use ; whose works 3 Through the merits 

. . mentioned from lines 9 to 

Hermogenes the exquisite has never read, *5- 

nor has that 4 miserable wretch who apes his 4 "iste" implies con- 

. tempt. The man's name 

style, who has been trained to sing nought is n °t known. 
else but 5 Calvus' or Catullus' lines. 5 Amatory poets. 

6 Well, true : yet he achieved a great success 6 An apologist for Lu- 

cilius says this. 

in using Greek as well as Latin words. 

O ye so late to learn, how can ye think Horace - 
aught hard, or worth your admiration, that 
7 Pitholeon of Rhodes could do ? satirist. very 



fathe 



62 SATIRE X. 

Apologist. Yet still, a Latin style agreeably mixed 
with Greek words is pleasanter, as if the 
rough Falernian be blended with the softer 

1 "Nota "corresponds /^i_* „i '^^ 
to our "brand" and <- nian wm C. 

^Horace. * as ^ vou ^ y ou niean this only when 

you write light lines, or also when you 
have to speak in some defendant's almost 

- Satire iv., line 94. hopeless 2 case. Although our greatest orators 
were pleading hard in their own tongue, 

3 Canusium was an would you, forsooth, like some 3 half-Greek, 

Apuhan town, its inhabit- J ? 7 

ants spoke Greek and half-Oscan from Canusium, forgetful of your 

Literally, country and fatherland, prefer to mingle phrases borrowed 

from abroad with your own tongue ? Why, 

4Marecitra-«.*.,bom when 1, 4 Roman though I am, began to write 

5 Serio-comic. Greek lines, the shade 5 of Romulus appeared 

when midnight's hour had struck, when 

dreams come true, and with such words 

forbade ; " you would not more absurdly carry 

coals to Newcastle, than you would act, 

• Marcus Furius Biba- if y° u Preferred to overfill Greek authors' 

cuius °£ Cremona was crowded ranks." While that bombastic 6 Alpine 

called Alpinus from a r 

line in his description of b ar d (as he is called) describes the death 

the waging of the Gallic v ' 

war by Caesar • he wrote of Memnon in his wretched lines, or tells 

a tragedy called yEthio- 

pedes, in which Achiiies laboriously of the source the Rhine flows 

plays Memnon, a myth- 
ical king of /Ethiopia, from, I treat of lighter themes, not meant 

who went to aid the Tro- • «■ 1 « • • •■ »*■ 

jans; Bibacuius also to be recited loudly in the Muses temple, 

wrote a bombastic ac- . . 

count of the Rhine in subject to our critic Tarpa s praise or blame, 

his history of the Gallic , , 

war. nor meant to have a run upon the stage. 

7 A comic writer after _, , . , r 11 i 

Menander's style. Fundanius, you best of all men in the 

name V for a a siave. usl a world, can with good taste tell sportively 

He and Chremes are , -, i_ • i 

characters in the Andria your cpmic tales in which a cunning 
° 8 SusAsinius Poiiio courtesan and slave cheat some old man, as 
Tacte* 8 ^ Uterary cha " Terence tells us in the Andria; while 8 Pollio 



SATIRE X. 63 

describes kings' deeds in the Iambic Tri- 
meter; again, the fervid l Varius, far better 1 Varius was a tragic 
than all others, builds the bold heroic lines ; act0 
and last, the Muse that joys so in the fields, 
has given gentle elegance to 2 Virgil's pen. 2 xh e Bucolics and 

'Twas this satiric verse that I, when 3 Varro iish°ecf "nThe 1 was P en- 
Atacinus tried and failed, could write with ga 3 g v a £o was' a satirist, 
more success though still inferior to *Mm'^«^^^' fi E 
who introduced the style, nor should I dare J^gjf a <^f *■" 
to try to rob him of the crown that sits fif£X , £»2; 
so gracefully upon his brow. ™* a satirist of Sulla ' s 

Still I did say that what he wrote rolled th * Jgg™ introduced" 
turbidly 5 along, just like some torrent stream 5 Literally, that he 

. . . . flowed on muddily, 

that often bears with it more that requires (bearing) presenting to 

. . . . . . . a i our notice more that 

taking out than keeping there. And come ought to be taken away, 

j r j r l, • than that which ought to 

now, cntic as you are, do you find no fault m be left. 

great Homer's works ? And does Lucilius, 

with all his taste, make no change in the 

style of tragic Accius ? And does he not 

decry the lines of Ennius, which are not 

dignified enough, when he speaks of himself 

as one no better than the bards he blames ? 

And what prevents me, too, when I read 

what Lucilius once wrote, from asking whether 

his rough genius, or the rough nature of the 

subject-matter, would not let him pen more 

polished lines, or lines that ran more smoothly 

on (than those a man would pen) if satisfied 

with this alone, I mean the writing something 

in hexameters, he were accustomed to strike 

off two hundred lines before his breakfast, and c Cassius was a satirist 

two hundred more when he had dined, like to hVwS S and U shelves 

the genius of Tuscan 6 Cassius, more wild than STfuneraf pyre. ° rm 



64 SATIRE X. 

some swift flood, for he, they say, was burnt 
on pyre built up with his shelves and books. 
Suppose, I say, Lucilius has both good taste 
and wit, suppose besides he is more polished 
than most authors are who write an inartistic 
style of verse, untried by Greeks ; more 
i More ancient poets, polished, too, than ^ndronicus, Novius, 
Pacuvius, or Plautus ; still suppose Lucilius 
had been reserved by fate for our own times, 
he would erase much from his works ; would 
cut out ail that might seem needlessly spun 
out, and as he formed his lines, would often 
scratch his head in angry thought, and bite 

2 The upper end of the his nails down to the quick. 2 Ofttimes erase, 

stilus " was broad, and 

used for erasing its marks if you intend to write what may prove worth 

on the waxen tablet; the . 

lower end was sharp, and a second reading, and don't try to gam the 

used for writing. ... . . . . . . . 

admiration of the mob, but be content with a 
choice few to read your works. Or would 
you madly wish that poetry of yours should 
form heart lessons in some third-rate schools ? 
Well, I would not ; for " 'tis enough that 
gentlemen should give me their applause," 

3 a fashionable actress, as once 3 Arbuscula, despising others in the 

theatre, said boldly, when hissed off the 

* a (( wretched poet stage, — What ? should the wretched slander 

his satire was 'as coarse of 4 Pantilius touch me ; should it distress me 

and biting as the insect , e-r-^ , , « • i 

of that name. that 5 Demetnus backbites me when away, or 

g eiii?s emetrius aped Ti ~ that some silly 6 Fannius, the singer's parasite, 
o™l u s wasatoady should try to injure me? May Plotius 7 and 
critic? e of b ?ne P d°a e ^ and Varius my patron, Virgil, Valgius, Octavius, 
hl FuTufXristius was a approve of what I write ; and fain I would 
^TeVi^TwTknightsthat Fuscus, best of men, and both the 

of senatorial rank. y^j gaye the J r p ra i se • an d with nO thought 



SATIRE X. 65 

of courting favour, I may mention you too, 

Pollio, and you, Messalla, and your brother, Pubiicoia Messaiia 

, -r^-1 i j n j i Corvinus, and Quintus 

and you, Bibulus and Servms, and also you, Pedius Pubiicoia. 
impartial Furnius, and many more ; but them, with th^e. 1S ' toget er 
though men of letters, and my friends, I pur- a tragic poe^historian; 
posely omit, and trust that these my lines, ^se^u^a philosopher] 
whate'er their merit be, will suit them all ; ^ c lf s X ius Sulpicius: 
for I shall feel chagrin if they don't please as b^'SS&T' an 
well as I expect they will. But you, Deme- 
trius, and you, Tigellius, I bid go sing your JSSEs? in t^w 
sentimental trash among the seated ladies !' plorare v which T ans 

o to sing effeminately, or 

whom you teach. t0 s° t0 perdition. 

Go, slave, and quickly write this next in 
order in my book now done. 



SATIRE I.— BOOK II. 



Horace pretends to ask Caius Trebatius Testa, an eminent barrister, what 
he ought to do, as some one had threatened him with an action for libel. 
Trebatius advises him either to give up writing, or describe the exploits of 
Augustus. The poet disclaims ability for such undertaking, and avows his 
intention of satirizing none but those who have assailed him unprovoked. 



Horace. Some think that in my satires I 
am too severe, and nearly libellous ; the rest 
consider all my writings spiritless, and that 
a thousand lines a day like mine could be 
composed as easily as yarn is spun. Treba- 
tius, advise me legally what now to do. 

Trebatius. Don't write. 

Ho?-ace. What ! not compose, say you, a 
single line ? 

Trebatius. I do. 

Horace. Well, 'pon my life, it would be best : Compare the same use 

7 r J of "poteras in line 16 

but I can't sleep. for " posses." 

Trebatius. Let those who want sound sleep 
do as l 1 do, dress well with oil, and thrice i Trebatius was fond 

of swimming and good 

swim o'er the Tiber's stream, and have a wine. 

. . . , , Such forms as " trans- 

skin full of good wine at night s approach : or, nanto" and "habento" 

_ . , ' were common in legal 

since so eager a desire to write impels you language, 
'gainst your will, dare to describe the ex 



68 SATIRE I. — BOOK II. 

ploits of Augustus the indomitable, for doubt- 
less you will gain rich guerdon for your toil. 
Horace. Respected sir, my powers are not 
a match for my desire : indeed, not any 
one you please can well portray a Roman 
army on the march, all bristling with the 
The "pilum" was the javelin, or Gauls' death-agony upon the spear- 

national weapon. J ° J r *■ 

point broken in the wound or wounds the 
An allusion to the con- Parthian inflicts while gliding off his horse. 

tnvance of Marius, who 

substituted for one of the Trebatms. And yet as erst the wise Luci- 

two iron pins with which 

the shaft of the javelin lius portrayed the younger Africanus, so you 

was fastened to the head, . 

a wooden one, so that might have drawn Augustus, just, high-souled, 

when the javelin struck 

on the shield of the ene- and brave. 

my it should break in- __. / ~ 1 . . . . 

stead of being able to be Horace. Oh, I shall do my duty when a 

used for hurling back, or . _ . 

even Dulled out from the proper time shall come, and r laccus words 
will fail to gain Augustus' ears unless the time 
be suitable ; for if you pay him awkward 

2 Metaphor, from horses flattery * he spurns you, safe from all attacks. 

kicking back upon awk- . 

ward grooms. Trebatms. And how much better this than 

to assail in biting lines Pantolabus the rake, 

and spendthrift Nomentanus, when men each 

fear for themselves and hate the satirist, though 

unattacked ! 

is quoted nil to represent Horace. What should I do ? The 2 buffoons 

Confer. Persius, Sat. dance directly that the fumes of wine have 

Sedsum petuiantTspkne 3 mounted to their brains, and all the lamps seem 

cachmno.^ u ^ under . doubled. 4 Yet Castor takes delight in steeds, 

St< ^t^;^nZn, while boxing Pollux loves; there are as many 

sion sa tT th? : myth all of different pursuits as men alive ; and so, as 

Leda and the swan once Lucilius, 5 superior to both of us, wrote, I 

Argument: — li bro- 7 l ' ' 

thers differ how much too j ove to wr it e hexameters. Lucilius, in 

more should those who 7 

are no relations ! times gone by, used to entrust the secrets of 

s /. e., in property and ° J 

birth; he was Pompey's his heart to books as though to trusty friends, 

great-uncle. ° * * 



SATIRE I. — BOOK II. 69 

and ne'er would go to any other aid if 

J good or bad luck had befallen him; and . 2 The verb " contigit " 

^ m implies good fortune j 

this is why the whole life of the ancient "acddit," reverse. 

bard is known as well as if portrayed in 

pictures such as shipwrecked sailors offer 

to some god. I imitate this poet, doubtful 

whether I am of Lucanian or of Apulian 

descent, for now Venusia's sons dwell close 

upon the confines of both countries, sent, 

as the old story runs, for this, when now 

the Sabines had been driven out, — to stay an 

enemy's incursion on the 2 Romans through the 2 " Romano " = " Ro- 

manis, ' a use common 

space untenanted, in case Apulia, or else Lu- enough in Livy and other 

writers. 

cania, should wage aggressive war with them. 
And yet this pen of mine shall make no 
unprovoked attack on anything that lives, and 
like a sword in scabbard cased shall guard Argument: — He 

, i 1 i 1 -r i strikes terror, as it were, 

me ; and pray why should I attempt to draw into the hearts of his ene- 

-,.-,-,-, r r -11 i i-i m ies by intimating that 

it while 1 m safe from all molesting highway- he is descended from 

-1 3 y^ t • it- , those brave Venusians 

men? J Jove, great Fire and king, grant who were sent to protect 
that this weapon may be laid aside and wear arms^if n'eceLary^nd 
away with rust, and that none may assail me, Savery^u^avows^hat 
eager as I am for peace. But he who shall ^' s m ° &5£&££ 
have once provoked me— 'twill be better that Tafp^dtS a line 
he touch me not, I cry-shall rue it, and, be- l^H-ch U s, showing 
come notorious, shall be the theme of jest as sober earnest. 
through all the town. 

Th' informer 4 Cervius, when he's provoked, 4 a petty advocate and 

, ill • 1 informer, 

is wont to threaten those he hates with prosecu- 
tion and the voting urn : Canidia will threaten 
all her foes with poison that Albutius once 
killed his wife with : 5 Turius, with signal loss 5 a corrupt judge of 
of any case tried when he's judge. How that time ' 



70 SATIRE I. — BOOK II. 

men deter the foes they hate, each with the 
power he is most gifted with, and how the 
laws of nature order it, learn now by reasoning 
with me like this. The wolf with tooth 
attacks, the bull with horns : why so, unless 
by instinct bid? Entrust his long-lived 

1 a prodigal who dab- mother to the spendthrift ^caevas care: 

bled in magic. 

2 ironical. * affection's hand will work no deed of blood ; 
/. e., Scaeva is natu- and vet, no stranger this, than that the wolf 

rally a cunning poisoner . . . 

instead of an open mur- attacks none with his heels, nor ox with teeth : 
— for baleful hemlock will take the old lady 
off, when honey has been poisoned with its 
juice. To save all needless talk — if calm old 
age await me, or if death be hovering round 
with sable wings, — if rich, if poor, at Rome, 
or, an chance shall have willed it so, in 
banishment, what e'er the tenor of my life 
shall be, I still will write. 

Trebatius. My dear young friend, I fear 

you'll not live long, and I'm afraid lest some 

Argument: — if such one f your influential patrons should with- 

men as Lsehus and Afn- J * 

canus continued to be d raw his patronage. 
the friends of Lucilius, to 

although he wrote sa- Horace. Howso? prav. when Lucilius once 

tires, why should I be ... 

afraid of losing my pa- dared to be the first in writing verses framed 

trons' favour? 

■ Cicero's treatise on according to this style, and to drag on that 

friendship is named after . . . 

him. specious cloak m which men severally walked so 

* Quintus Cascihus ..... , . .. 

Meteiius was an enemy fair before their fellows eyes, though base at 
5 Lucius Cornelius heart, — was 3 Laelius, — was Africanus, who de- 

Lentulus Lupus was con- ... , . _ . . ~ 

sui A.r.c. 598, and noted rived his well-earned name from crushing Car- 

fcjr wickedness and im- . . , . , , .... 

piety. Lucilius, in one thage by his arms,— annoyed by genius like 

an assenS^of rt^^is his, or felt they pain whene'er 4 Meteiius was 

aSiVs^and °discu"Sng attacked, or * Lupus thoroughly lampooned? 

TShiS!!*" SP " An d yet he took the leading public men to 



SATIRE I.-— BOOK II. 7 1 

task, the public, too, l through every class alike ; i /. e . , through ail the 
and, sooth to say, he spared but virtue and pe riph~nSs foTthe'whoie 
its friends. But Scipio so brave in war, and peop e# 
Laelius so gently wise in state, were wont to 
trifle in his company, and sport with playful 
ease, until their humble meal was cooked, 
directly that they had withdrawn themselves 
from this life's busy stage into their own re- 
treats. Whate'er I be, though far below 2 Lu- a Luciiius was of eques- 

. . . trian origin, and grand- 

cilius in means and genius, yet Envy must per- uncle to Pompey the 

° J J Great on the mother's 

force confess that I have ever lived among the side. 

3 great, and when she tries to fix her tooth on /Such as Augustus, 

Maecenas, and Polho. 

some weak place, will strike against what's 
hard and firm, unless, most learned barrister, 
you do not quite agree with this. 

Trebatius. Oh yes, I quite approve. Yet Trebatius employs the 

... , 11-11 legal word "diffindere," 

still, that you may be advised and on your not in the sense of mak- 

j . . - ing a matter stand over 

guard, lest, as may happen, ignorance of for f rther consideration, 

j ■, Till* 11 but in its ordinary sense 

sacred law should bring some trouble on your f rejecting or altering, 
head, I tell you that there is a 4 court and ver- 4 The lex Cornelia is 
diet too, in case a man shall have composed 
against another verses that are bad because 
they're libellous. 

Horace. Yes, true ; if any one have written Horace pretends to 
verses that are bad because they're weak ; ^u^use^of the word 
but how if any one shall have composed " mala - 
lines, good according to Augustus' view, and 
shall be praised by him for them, or if one 
have lampooned those worthy of reproof, 
deserving none 5 himself ? „ Integer ipse „ Ho _ 

Trebatius. The magistrates will smile, and ^frllfromTufaiits* 
give their votes with lenience, and you will be but 1J fr( ? m , such . as . he 

° J would then be satirizing. 

set free and leave the court without a fine. 



SATIRE II.— BOOK II. 



Under the character of a Roman countryman, the poet recommends a 
more frugal style of living than that which prevailed among the luxurious 
inhabitants of Rome, and also cautions men against erring in the other 
extreme, as some did. 



Horace. Good friends, learn, not sur- 
rounded by bright gold and silver plate, or 
marble tables, when the gaze is dazzled by 
th' excessive glare, and when the heart, 
inclined to choose the false, rejects the better 
course, but here, ere tasting food, discuss 
with me the nature and extent of good there 
is in living in a humble way ; and these are 
not my words, but rules a countryman 
Ofella gives, who, though belonging to no 
sect, is a philosopher possessed of healthy 
common sense. 

A friend puts this ques- Why this ? 

Horace. I'll tell you if I can. All those 

whose sense of truth high living once has 

spoiled, but feebly search for right. When you 

i He contrasts the have coursed the hare, or when you're tired 

Roman hunting and *.% « , • • ■, »/• *_i l-n 

riding with the Greek with breaking in a horse, or if the 'Roman 

dicing and game of hoop, i • i 

2 The construction is hunting weary you, accustomed as you are 
(agft'le), moliiter'auT- 2 to nve like Greeks effeminately, then, if the 
b^m(hide i0 pu^ C,,tela " swift tennis-ball attract you —while the inte- 



tion. 



SATIRE II. BOOK II. 73 

rest you take makes you delightfully forget , The Romans every 

day took strong exercise 

the rough exertion of the game, — why, play before the undeviating 

P . . ° ' J7 r J custom of bathing. One 

at tennis; or if quoits be more your fancy, of the most favourite ex- 

. . 'iiiii • ercises was the game of 

cleave the yielding air with the hurled quoit, bail, which was then 

. ., , r •-, i , played by adults in 

I hen, when your toil has forcibly removed various ways, and is now 

,. .-, i*i r . r in Italy. Horace here 

disgust, ere tasting food or drink, refuse, if refers to the "piia" or 

^ ,-, r i i • i ,i • smaller ball, something 

then you can, all common food, drink nothing Hk e our tennis-baU, and 
but the primest * honey mixed with richest of football. ° 1S ' 
wine. Suppose your butler has gone out, or s J^ e , b™sV™\™n?t°d 
that the sea keeps safe its fish through louring |^^ &£ 
storm; no matter, bread and salt will well *£ t^nd Sd 
appease so good an appetite. And whence b Trh^ honey' of H y - 
gained this, think you, or how ? The greatest ^^Tf£S^^ 
pleasure is not found in food that's dear and the richest The allusion 

1 is to the mulsum, or 

savoury, but all depends upon yourself. Get mead > which was taken 

■* 7 * x J as a sort ol whet or ante- 

relish to your food by hard exertion, for nor P ast - 

oyster, no, nor rich red mullet, nor the Alpine 

grouse, will give delight to the pale glutton 

bloated with excess. Yet, were a peacock 

served upon the table, scarcely could I drag 

you from it, and suppress your wish to whet 

your appetite with it in place of common 

food, misled as you would be by specious 

show, because a bird that's rare is sold for a 

great price, and makes a splendid show with 

tail of varied hues: — as though that were aught 

to the point. Pray, do you eat that plumage 

that you praise so ? No. Pray, has the 

bird such beauty cooked ? No. Yet you'd , The construction is 

J J thus : — Patet te decep- 

rather eat its flesh than that of fowl, although tum imparibus formis 

(vescij or (vesci cupere) 

they are the same. 'Tis clear that you're came hac magis (quam 

came) ilia. 

misled by mere outside, that differs so. 
Well, granted : — but whence do you get 



74 SATIRE II. — BOOK II. 

the nice taste to decide if this pike gasping 
* Pike were thought / on t h e shore) was ! caught in Tiber's stream 

better of when caught v / o 

after a storm or when or i n the sea, — if it swam through rou^h floods 

weaned with making 7 ° ° 

their way against an ad- betwixt the bridge of piles and of Fabricius, 

verse stream. . 

or nearer to the river's source in Tuscany. 

You praise a mullet, madman that you are, 

- i. e., an unusually that only weighs 2 three pounds, which you're 

fine one. Domitian's ce- . . . J 

lebrated mullet weighed obliged to cut into small bits to give each 

six pounds, and was . 

thought miraculous. guest a taste. I see, it is appearance that 
attracts \ and since that's so, what good is 
there in loathing those long pike ? No doubt 
you loathe them so, since nature has bestowed 
on them too large a bulk, and on the mullet 
but small weight. The appetite that's ever 
cloyed despises common food. 

Yes, but I could have wished to view a fish 
of wondrous size stretched out at length on 
some large dish, says Gluttony, that e'en 
3 He refers to the 3 voracious monsters might well suit. 

Harpies, described bv -in r - 

Virgil, ^Eneid Hi. 210, O come with all your forces, ye south winds, 

and following lines, as _. . . 1 -1 • r-id-vT 

devouring and defiling and taint these gluttons dainty food. 4 Nay, 

the food of /Eneas and , , i r 1 -i i i i i 

his followers. there s no need : — for the wild boar and turbot 

dignatTon her?. 10 e ° m ~ too, although quite fresh, are stale enough to 
reflecJttoaUfo^i'aSe them, since such distressing plenty cloys the 

is flavourless to them. ^^ ^^^ SQ fl^ sated as ft is? [ t rat h er 

fancies radishes or elecampane dressed in 

vinegar. Although not yet is all plain food 

Eggs and olives were excluded from our nobles' boards, for even 

eaten at the commence- . j j i 

mem. of the dinner ; the now the common egg and dark preserving 

latter were supposed to . . , ,, • 1 5 XT ,_ -, 

be provocative of appe- olive have their place. Not very long ago, 
11 The dark olives were the table of Gallonius the auctioneer was 
forTese d rvm g be the ^ quite notorious for having on it served a stur- 

5 Eighty years before, i 1 , 

in the time of Lncilius. geon WllOle ! 



SATIRE II BOOK II. 75 

What ! did the ocean not breed turbot then 
as now? 

1 Yes, but the turbot then was safe, and safe 1 The argument is, that 
the stork in unmolested nest, until the ex- ^ ch thou^of^htn as 
mayor Rufus showed you how to cook them ^Vhatwgktt^o 
both. So now-a-days,if any one have solemnly vo |^ pronius Rufus . 
affirmed that sea-gulls roasted are good food, 
the 2 noble youth of Rome, so quick to learn 2 ironical. 
the wrong, will listen to his words. Eut, 3 as 3 That is, i am com- 

. mending a plain and rao- 

Ofella thinks, mean living Will not be the derate, not a mean style 

same as moderate, and surely useless will 

it be for men to shun one fault, 4 if they be 4 « si te alio ita detor- 

so turned by another from the right as to sens ' u pra ^ u 

become depraved. A certain miser, who 

e'en now is called " the Dog " because he 

really is so dirty, lives on olives spoilt by 

being kept five 5 times too long, and cherries 5 They would only keep 

that grow wild ; nor will he pour his wine 

from cask to bowl until it's flavourless, and 6 Lest the slave should 

put too much on. 

on his cabbage drops 6 himself with niggard "instiiiat cauiibus o- 

° _ x °° _ leum cujusolei odortm. 

hand — though liberal enough with the spoilt 

vinegar — from cruet made of "horn that 7 /.*•• of the com- 
monest kind. 
holds two pints, such oil that one could never 

bear the smell ; and this, although in fresh- 
fulled toga clad he keep the after 8 marriage » The bridegroom gave 

r . . 1 a dinner on the dav after 

least, or birthday, or some other holiday, the marriage, and the 

, 171 , , . , r ^' • 1 -ii i i-i carousing was then re- 

What kind of living, then, will the philoso- newed. 

pher adopt, and which class will he imitate, — 

the gluttonous or miserly? 9 1 am between two 9 Literally, a wolf 

presses me on this side, 

nres, as the proverb says. a dog on that. 

Philosophers will so consult good taste, as 
never to disgust their guests by meanness, or 
unluckily go wrong in either style of life : — 



76 SATIRE II. — BOOK II. 

will ne'er, as he assigns their work, be harsh to 

thrLtt^hi^siaves^vith s ^ aves as °^ ^lbutius once was ; nor will they, 
death if they did not do like good easy Naevius, rive greasy water to 

his commissions exactly. ° ' 7 ° ° J 

He would flog his slaves their guests to wash their feet in ; this is fla- 

before they had com- ° 

pitted any offence say- errant want of taste. Now learn the nature and 

ing that he feared he ° 

should not have time extent of good that plainer living brings with 

after they had done . b r & & 

wrong. He made a great it. And first you'd have good health: for 

show on a little. ... ... 

m 2 « u t » = quomodo ; you may well believe how 2 bad for man is rich 
credere." and varied food, when you think of the diet 

which, plain though it was, agreed so well 
with you in days gone by ; whereas, directly 
you have mixed boiled meat with roast, shell- 
fish with game, these dainties will turn into 
bile, and sluggish phlegm will cause derange- 
ment of the stomach. Do you see how pale 

3 J er ^ e v? horm J°i ?» each guest gets up from 3 dinner, where one 

2, 28 : "P. Ccena dubia . . 

apponimr. g. Quid istuc scarce can tell which dish to choose ? Nay, 

verbi est ? P. Ubi tu J 

dubites, quid sumas po- more : the body, burdened with th' excess of 

tissimum." 

yesterday, weighs down with it the soul as 

4 He alludes to the we u anc [ ma kes that 4 emanation of the god- 

btoic doctrine, that our ' ° 

minds are emanations \fe e Essence grovel on the ground. The other 

from God s universal ° ° 

mind. Pythagoras held when he has laid down to sleep his limbs re- 

the same idea. # x 

freshed as quickly as may be with food, gets up 
quite vigorous for the day's rule of work. Yet 
he'll be able at due times to change to richer 
food, if the returning year have brought a holi- 
day, or if he shall wish to recruit his frame, now 
b "Ubique"=etubi. spare with living low, when, 5 too, he shall be 
growing old, and when the feeble stage of life 
shall need a gentler treatment ; but, pray 
what addition will be made for you to 
that luxurious indulgence which, while 
young and strong you now anticipate, in 



SATIRE II. — BOOK II. 77 

case bad health or crippling age fall to your 
lot? 

The ancients praised a boar e'en if high- 
flavoured, not because they had no sense of 
smell, but, I believe, with this idea, that any guest 
who might come rather late should eat it, tainted 
as it was, more suitably than that the greedy 
host should swallow it when fresh. Oh that 
the earth in days gone by had brought me 
forth to dwell among such demigods as these ! 
No doubt you have regard for fame, for 1 * Quae =qui PP e quae, 
words of fame fall on the ear of man more 
pleasantly than song ; well, know 2 that these 2 " Scito" is understood 

* J o ; 7 .in thought. 

large turbots and expensive dishes bring with 
them both great disgrace and loss. 

Then, further, there's your 3 uncle's and your 3 , The A m -™ ture u of 

J J uncles and step-mothers 

neighbour's rage, yourself disgusted in your was proverbial, 
heart, and wishing death would come, but all 
in vain, since you'll not have a penny piece 
to buy a halter with. 

Yes, rightly, he replies, is Trausius the bank- 
rupt blamed in words like those of yours, but I 
have ample revenues, and wealth sufficient for 
three noblemen. 

Then is there nothing on which you can 
spend your surplus income better ? Why do 
any suffer want they don't deserve while you 
are rich ? Why do the gods' time-honoured 
fanes fall to decay? And why, insatiate wretch, 
don't you mete out from those large stores of 
wealth some portion for your fatherland which 
should be dear ? No doubt 4 on you alone will 4 ironical, 
fortune never cease to smile ! O you doomed 



7S SATIRE II. — BOOK II. 

soon to be great source of laughter to your 
enemies when all your wealth is spent ! 

Now which of these two characters will have 

a surer self-reliance 'gainst reverse ? The one 

i *■ Superbus " applies w ho has Ions: used his haudity mind ' and 

both to "mens and ° . 

'• corpus." pampered frame to luxury, or he who, satisfied 

with humble life, and careful of his future lot, 
like a good general has well prepared for war 
in time of peace. And this I'll tell you, that 
you may more readily believe: — when quite 
a little boy, I knew Ofella did not spend his 
yet un straitened means more lavishly than he 
does now they are curtailed. You might 
have seen him, with his flocks and sons, as 
a stout tenant farmer in the land the public 
■5 Umbrenus got officer assigned 2 Umbrenus, and his words 

Ofella's land in the divi- ' 

sion of conquered pro were these, — " But seldom upon working days 

pertv : because he had 

served at PhUippi against have I ate aught but greens and a smoked 

Brutus and Cassius. , . . . . _ r . " _ _ - 

leg of pork. And if some mend I had 
not seen for long, or neighbour called, and 
proved a welcome guest to me when disen- 
gaged through rain, we then enjoyed — no 
fish conveyed from town, but fowl and kid, 
and after that a bunch of grapes that had 
been hung to dry, while walnuts and split 
figs made our dessert. And then we played 

3 The game was pro- a 3 game, and forfeits in it fixed the wine 

bablv one of dice, and . 

the one who made a mis- we had to drink or go without ; and Ceres 

take had either to drink .. i • i -i i , r> • • i 

a bumper or go without worshipped with the words, 'So rise with 

wine when he wanted it. . r , n , 4 , , . . . . 

4 in the oratio recta the lofty stalk, smoothed out with wine the 

words would be "surge • a a r • i ?i T , c 

cuimoaito." wrinkles of our anxious brows. Let for- 

" vcnVraL^' aS con e fer S vir- tune frown, and stir fresh tumult up, how 

gil,<^neid,"m. >4 6c. ^^ ^^ wfl] ^ ^ &Qm ^^ ^^ 



SATIRE II. — BOOK II. 79 

tages? — how much less fat and strong, my 
children, and my slaves, have you been since 
this new resident came here? And I say 
u resident," because nor him nor me nor any 
one has nature fixed to be the owner of 
the land in perpetuity. He turned me out, 
and him profuse expenditure, or ignorance 
of legal quirk, or certainly at last, his heir, 
who's longer lived, will oust. The farm now 
bears Umbrenus' name, and lately bore 
Ofella's ; 'twill belong in perpetuity to none, 
but pass into the tenancy now of myself, 
now of some other man. So, then, live 
bravely on, and bravely stem adversity's 
opposing stream. 



SATIRE III.— BOOK II. 



This Satire contains a conversation between Horace and Damasippus, a 
silly fellow, who, after losing all his property in trade, grew a long beard, 
and strutted about the forum in a philosopher's cloak, reciting the 
rules Stertinius, a garrulous philosopher, gave him. Horace represents 
Damasippus as intruding upon him in his Sabine villa on the festival called 
Saturnalia, which w T as held on the 17th of December and few following 
days, in memory of the good old times when men were all more equal, and 
lived an easy primitive life. 



Damasippus, You write so seldom now, that 
^he writing on the you don't ask for parchment four times in 

wax tablets was tran- 
scribed on parchment, the year's whole length, emending all you 

have composed, and angry with yourself 

because, indulging as you do in wine and 

sleep, you tell in verse nought worth the 

2 As Horace does not mentioning. What will be done ? 2 What, 

immediately reply, Da- . 

masippus answers his nothing ! Yet you fled to this retreat at the 

own question. . . ' 

commencement of old Saturn s noisy festival. 
So then, in earnest, tell us something suitable 
to your professions : come, begin. You utter 
not a word. 'Tis no use blaming pens, and 
striking unoffending walls built 'neath the 
gods' and poets' ire. And yet you had the 



SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 8 1 

air of one who made us many splendid pro- 
mises, if but your little country house had 
sheltered you beneath its comfortable roof. 
What good was it to pile ^enander's works " a Greek comic 
on Plato's, and to take forth such distin- 
guished COmradeS On the road as 2 Eup0lis, Or 2 An ancient Greek 



comic writer. 



as 3 Archilochus ? Are you preparing to draw 3 The inventor of the 
envy's teeth by turning 4 idle now? If so, 4Vimis = industria 
you'll be most wretchedly despised : — that 
wicked Siren Sloth must be avoided, or what- 
ever praise you've gained by your more ener- 
getic life must be surrendered with content. 

Horace. 5 May heaven's powers combine 5 Horace here pre- 

. . tends not to know that 

to find a barber for you, Damasippus, in Damasippus had turned 

r . . , , . . . . philosopher, and there- 

return for this your good advice ; but by what fore had grown the 

, , "philosophic beard," and 

means came you to know my character so so he jestingly expresses 

1 , p a w ^ sn tnat heaven would 

Well r confer the greatest bless- 

Damasippus. Why, after I lost all I had riddmg°hiim oThis' dirxy 
on 'Change, I turned philosopher, and saw to eard * 
other people's business, when ejected from 
my own by creditors : — for once, a virtuoso, I 
would hunt out some bronze bath in which 
that cunning 6 Sisyphus had washed his feet. 6 Sisyphus founded 

. -ii • Corinth, and was the 

I'd notice too what might be carved in mar- son of iEoius. 

tistic style, or cast in rather rough a mould. 

Then, as a connoisseur, I fixed the value 

of this statue at eight hundred pounds ; I, 

best of all men, could buy pleasure-grounds 

and houses at a profit, whence all those who 

thronged the streets at auctions called me 

» , , , . , r 7 There was a corpora - 

' MerCUry himself. tion of traders at Rome 

Tr T t j .'ii^i. called Mercuriales. 

Horace. 1 know, and am astonished that s "Morbi purgatum" 
you're rid of that sad aberration 8 of the mind. foAm^rbo purgatum/' 1 

F 



82 SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 

Damasippus. Nay, but in wondrous wise, 

a new disease of mind has rid me of the 

former one, as happens when distressing 

pleurisy or headache changes to a stomach- 

l<< Cw"=os ventricals ache : l — as when the apoplectic men one sees 

"trajecto" is a medical 

term. turn boxers in a frenzy fit, and drive their 

doctors off. 

2 Horace speaks ironic- Horace. 2 As long as VOU do IlOUght like 
allv. the Stoic seriouslv. , 

there is an ellipsis thlS tO me, do aS yOU Will, 
cf the words, " in me . . 

fcu;""esto" is the third Damasippus, My dear sir, dont deceive 

yourself, both you and nearly all besides are 

mad and fools, if aught of truth Stertinius can 

sThe verb "crepat" 3 din into one's ears, from whose dictation I 

jonvevs an idea of re- , j .-i i r 

teration and a loud attentively wrote down these rules of won- 
drous worth, what time, to solace me, he 
bade me grow a "philosophic beard," and 
4 Built by Fabridus come back from the 4 bridge of suicides with 

Ine consul : used like our ° 

Waterloo might be for clear ed-up brow. For when I, through my 

ruined state, would fain have veiled my 

head and leapt into the stream, he luckily 

5 " Cave faxis" = cave stood by and said, 5 " See that you do not any- 

ne facias ; faxis being the , . . - ....... 

old form for facias or thing unworthy of yourself; it is false shame 
that tortures you, for you're afraid to be 
thought mad when all the world is mad. And 
first, I'll try to find the nature of this madness 
out, and if it prove to be in you alone, I'll 
, utter not another word to stay your dying 
cchrysippiporticus" with stout heart. 6 Chrysippus' sect and 

was a colonnade at ., ,-. ,1 j 1 • • 

Athens, where Zeno and pupils say that all are mad whom VICIOUS 
folly or the ignorance of truth drives blindly 
on. This philosophic rule applies to nations 
and to mighty kings, and all but the philoso- 
pher. Now listen to the reason why all those 



aperorrags 



SATIRE III. — BOOK II. S3 

who've called you ' madman ' are as mad as 
you. As in the woods, when some mistake 
drives from the beaten track men vaguely 
wandering, one goes off to the right, another 
to the left, — they make the same mistake, but 
in quite opposite directions ; — so think that 
you're mad, and that the man who mocks 
you is no saner than yourself, and a fit * laugh- taii^'^papSof 8 ! 
ingstock for boys." There is one kind f fixe ' doD ' b y^ s ' 
folly that dreads what there is no cause to 
dread, and so complains that fire and rock 
and flood oppose its way in th' unobstructed 
plain ; and there's a second sort quite oppo- 
site to this, and quite as mad, — I mean of 
him who rushes through the midst of flames 
and streams, though his dear mother, his 
chaste sister, his relations, father, wife, 
should cry a deep ditch here, a high, rock 
there, take care : he'd 2 hear no more than 2 in the play iiiona, 

. the actor Fufius fell 

Fufius some time ago when drunk, as he asleep through wine, and 

. ill Catienus, who acted the 

slept out the play Inona, although two part of the ghost, could 

, t t . , . n „, , not wake him with the 

hundred thousand voices cried out Catienus words, "Mater te ap- 
words, "I call thee, mother, mine." I'll audfenc/shouted out the 
prove that all men are afflicted with a mad- 
ness like to this. Here's Damasippus 3 mad po ^«°^ JSJ£ 
in buying antique statues, 4 while the man id f^ e supposes the 
who lends him money is of quite sound creditor to be sane, but 

J ^- only to prove him as 

mind. Well, yes, Suppose he is. Yet if I mad as Damasippus. 

say to you, Here, take a sum, which you 
can never pay me back again, shall you be 
mad if you accept the sum, or more dis- 
traught if you refuse the " find " that fav'ring 
'Mercury so sends? Draw up ten bonds 



84 SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 

» Nerius was one of framed by our greatest usurer; — 'tis not 

the chief money-lenders , ,, , , , -i i i -i • , • 

at Rome. enough : then add a hundred obligations 

"Cicuta" (hemlock) drawn up by Cicuta skilled in quibbles of 

was so called from his . . . , . . . . . . 

chilling, hard nature as a the law : then add a thousand legal ties 
besides; yet still this rascal, like a second 

2 Proteus was a sea- 2 Proteus, will escape the chains. 

god who had the power . 

of changing himself into When, as he laughs excessively, you hurry 

ill kinds of* sn3.DCS * n.6 is 

described in the 4 th him into the court, he will become a boar, 
anon a bird or stone, and when he will, a 
tree. Since to mismanage one's affairs be- 
speaks the madman, and to manage well, the 
sane ; believe me, old Cicuta is more addle- 
headed than you when he tells his clerk to 
write a cheque for what you never can repay. 
I bid you list to me, and now prepare 
to carefully attend, all you whose cheeks are 
pale through that pernicious quest of rank or 
greed of gain ; all you whose passions are 
inflamed by luxury, or hearts distressed by 
gloomy superstition, or by any possible 
disease of mind ; approach in order nearer 
me, while I explain that all are mad. The 
miser needs by far the strongest cure ; I 
Anticyra was in the almost think philosophy intends Anticyra's 

Maliac gulf, and the . 

supposed cure for mad- whole produce for hlS USC 

ness — "hellebore" — ,-, i • » i • • -it i • ., i 

grew there. Staberms s heirs inscribed upon his tomb 

known of^Staberius. r a the sum he left, for had they not done so, 

they would have been obliged to give a 

hundred pairs of gladiators for the public 

show, a banquet suited to th' expensive tastes 

3 Amus was a friend of of 3 Arrius, and all the corn that's reaped 

Cicero, and gave a , 

splendid funeral feast to in Africa. For said Staberms, " It was my 

his father. .,..-., . ... .. jit 

will if right, it was my will if wrong, don t be 



SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 85 

severe with me." Methinks the foresight of 

Staberius anticipated this reluctance to adopt 

the clause. What was his meaning, then, in 

ordering his heirs to carve upon his tomb 

the sum he left? Why, while he lived, he 

thought that poverty was a great vice, and 

guarded against nothing with more care ; so 

that, if he had died, as possibly he might, less 

wealthy by a single farthing, he'd have thought 

himself less virtuous: — *for merit, fame,. ■ Stertinius says this 

and glory, all things human and divine bow 

low before fair Money's power, and he who 

has amassed this wealth will be distinguished, 

brave, and just. 

2 Will he be a philosopher as well? Ay, 2 Stertinius asks him- 

, . . , , , . .„ self and answers. 

and a king, and whatsoe er he will. 

Staberius expected that th' inscription, as 
though earned by merit, would prove a great 
source of fame to him. 

How widely different the Greek sage 3 Aris- 3 see page 195, Epistle 
tippus acts ! who in the midst of Libyan 
deserts bade his slaves throw down the gold 
because they made but little way, grown lazy 
through the weight they bore. Which is the 

madder Of these 4 tWO ? . 4 Staberius or Aris- 

tippus. 

5 We cannot tell. An instance that m 5 stertinius here re- 

. members that the theory 

trymg to solve doubt but causes fresh, brings of his sect was that one 

. __ .. ill 1 could not solve one 

no result. Yet, if a man should purchase doubtful matter by creat- 

Till m S another, and gives 

lutes, and having purchased, should at once U p the comparison be- 

. n i i iii tween the miser and the 

convey them all to the same place, although man who has no regard 

, , . , , ,, .. for money, and proves 

addicted not to playing on the lute or any the miser to be the 
other branch of the musician's art : — if one ^tances^o pLn^aVto 

Who Were no CObbler Should buy paring . -quire no illustration. 



86 SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 

knives and lasts, one disinclined to trade, 
buy sails and gear for ships : why, men like 
these would justly be by all called mad and 
crazed. And, pray, what difference is there 
between such men and him who stores up 
gold and silver coin, and knows not how to 
use his gains, but fears to touch them just 
as if tabooed ? 

Suppose a man, long club in hand, should 
ever watch stretched out at length by a large 
heap of corn, and though the owner, and 
though hungry, should not dare to touch a 
single grain of it, but niggardly should rather 
feed on bitter leaves; if he should drink 
bad vinegar, although he keeps, stored up 
within, a thousand, nay, three hundred thou- 
sand casks of Chian wine and old Falernian : 
— nay, if a man, though eighty years of age, 
should lie on horse-rugs, while his richly 
broidered coverlets, the prey of moths and 
worms, were rotting in his chests, no doubt 
he would seem mad to very few, because 
most men are just as mad. Old man, detested 
by the gods, pray, do you guard this wealth 
so that your son, or possibly a freedman 
as your heir, may squander it ? or is it lest 
you come to want ? Nay ; for how small the 
sum each day's expense will take from your 
whole wealth, suppose you do begin to dress 
your cabbages, and head, defiled with un- 
combed scurf, with better oil ! When very 
little is enough, why falsely swear, and filch, 
and rob where'er you can ? Pray, are yoic 



SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 87 

sane ? If you began to stone the public and 
the slaves you purchased, young and old 
would all alike cry out that you were mad : 
though as the common people think you're 
in your right mind when you kill x your wife ^varice often ends in 

Jo J •> murder and matricide. 

by strangling, and your mother by the 
poisoned bowl. 

Perhaps you'll say, 2 Why not ? or say, you 2 Stertinius ironically 

. J y . supposes the following 

do not tlllS at ArgOS, Or that yOU don't kill defence on the part of 

the man who kills wife 

your mother with a sword, as erst Orestes or mother :— i who have 

.... . ., ..... only committed a crime 

did when mad : — or do you think that he went of every-day occurrence 
mad when he had done the deed of blood, derers and prisoners 

t ,-,. ii-r<* 1 i i dwell, I who deliberately 

and was not driven mad by runes ere he had killed my mother, am 
imbrued the sharp sword in his mother's Orestes who m Sew his 
throat? Moreover, from the time Orestes ff*5«£? andTl 
was supposed to be of unsound mind, he ^ e J^ r ° a ^ here the 
certainly did nought that one could find 
fault with : he ne'er attempted to attack his 
friend or sister with a sword : he but reviled 
them both by calling her a Fury, him what- 
ever term his hypochondria suggested to his 
mind. 3 Opimius, who had so much, though 3 Nothing more was 

., . iii-i i • i • known of Opimius. 

really poor in gold and silver, stored within 

his house ; who drank " vin 4 ordinaire " on 4 The Veientan wine 

i_ i-j i -i. j was a poor wine of the 

holidays, and mere spoilt wine and water c iaret kind. 

poured into the cup with 5 common ladle 5 The most ordinary 

upon working days, was seized once with pa^. was from Cara ~ 

a grievous fit of lethargy, so that his heir -in 

joy and triumph skipped about among his 

coffers with his keys. But him his faithful 

doctor with prompt energy raised up like 

this : — he ordered that a table should be 

placed close by : the bags of money emptied 



88 SATIRE III. BOOK II. 

on it, and that several should come to count 
it out; so he restored the man, and said 
besides these words : — " If you don't guard 
your own, your greedy heir will soon make 
off with all this wealth." 

Not, surely, while I live ? 

Well, then, that you may live, rouse up, 
do this. 

What do you mean ? 

Your veins will make no blood to keep 
you up thus weak, unless some strong support 
should aid your failing appetite. 

What, do you hesitate ? 

Come now, take this rice gruel. 

At what cost ? 

Oh, very small ! 

Yes, but how much ? 

Well, sixpence. 

O what misery ! what matters whether I 
come to my grave through some disease, or 
through such theft and robbery ? 
i Stertinuis again puts ^Who then is sound in mind ? 

questions, and answers 

tfoem. himself. All those who are not fools. 

And what about the miser ? 
He's a madman and a fool. 
And if a man be not a miser, is he there- 
fore sound in mind ? 
Oh dear no, not at all. 

2 He addresses himself 2 Why, Stoic, pray ? 
in' the vocative. 

I'll tell you. 

If one patient's stomach be all right, (suppose 

' Cratems was a distin- that 3 Paget said so,) is he therefore strong,and 

ployed by P At£cui n ' " will he leave his bed of pain ? The doctor 



SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 89 

will say No, because he is attacked by pleu- 
risy or Bright's disease. Suppose a man be 
nor forsworn nor mean : then let him slay a 
x pig in honour of his fav'ring household gods ; i The usual monthly 
yet still suppose he hunt for place and be un- S^tSunSSd to 
scrupulous : then let him sail off to 2 Anticyra oi ? To get hellebore to 
at once. For, pray, what matters it if you throw cure hls madness - 
all you have into some fathomless abyss, or 
ne'er enjoy your gains ? 'Tis said that 3 Ser- sserviusOppidiuswas 
vius Oppidius, a man of wealth and good old 
family, gave at 4 Canusium to each of his two 4Canusium, now Ca- 

r m 1 r i i_ J • j j • nosa, was in Daunia. 

sons one of the farms he had, and dying, 
called the youths to his bedside, and said 
these words : — 

When, Aulus, I had seen you carry care- 
lessly your dice and nuts, give them away 
and play with them, and you, Tiberius, 
count them with anxious brow and bury them 
in holes, I then was terribly afraid, lest mad- 
ness quite opposed in kind should influence 
you both : lest you, Tiberius, should imitate 

and you, Aulus, prove a prodigal. . 5 Nomentanus, Sat,i., 



■ 102. 



So, then, entreated by your hearths and Cicuta, Sat, n., ih\, 

69. 
homes, take care, you Aulus, lest you 

squander, you Tiberius, lest you increase too 
much the sum your father thinks enough, and 
nature fixes limits to. Nay, more, that long- 
ing for renown may not excite your minds, 
I'll bind you by an oath : whichever of you two 
shall e'er be e'en the 6 lowest officer of state, e The offices of ediie 
let him be infamous and be accursed. You'd avenueT^to ^"highest 
squander all your property in largesses of P referment - 
peas, and beans, and tares, so that with 



90 SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 

flowing dress you might strut in the circus, 
and have statues made of bronze, stript of 
your land, you madman, and the person- 
alty too, your father left, so that, forsooth, 
you, like the cunning fox that aped the 
noble lion once, might gain th' applause 

*Agrippa, afterwards 1 a orirma train <5 
consul, gave a most mag- A 5 n PP a g a * n S. 

toSM pTopie" Soldier. Great Atreus' son, why do you say 

of h edile C t0 ° k ^ 0f&Ce mei1 mUSt n0t WlS ^ t0 k UrV ' A J aX HOW? 

a supposed conversa- Ammemnon. I am a king. 

tion here takes place be- ° ° 

tween Agamemnon and Soldier. Then I, your humble subject ask 

one of his common sol- J J 

diers. who probably really r\Q more. 
represents the Stoic phi- 
losopher. Agamemnon. Besides, my order is quite 

2 Ajax,sonofTelamon, 

was a Greek hero who fair, and if I seem to any man unjust, I let 

contended with Ulys- . . . . 

ses for the possession of him with impunity express his thoughts. 

the arms of Achilles, and 7 7 . .. _ . , . . . 

when Ulysses obtained Soldier. Most mighty king, may heaven 

them he went mad and , r . . 

killed himself. The Greek grant that after taking Troy you may lead 
atfagedy on die subject! home your fleet ! Shall I then be allowed to 

3 He humorously com- ask and answer 3 questions as the lawyers 

pares the king to a bar- . 

rister. and their clients do ? 

Agamemnon. Oh yes ! ask on. 

Soldier. Pray, why does Ajax, son of Tela- 
mon, the bravest man next to Achilles, famed 
for having saved the Greeks so oft, through 
whose strong arm so many youthful warriors 
fell on a foreign field, unburied rot, that 
Priam's people and their sovereign may exult 
o'er him denied a tomb ? 

Agamemnon. When mad, he slew a thou- 

4 Agamemnon offered sand sheep, declaring loudly that he killed 
in Auh^to^appLsTus renowned Ulysses, Menelaus, and myself. 
^ l th: P !;na ed g ) ain D i an fair Soldier. And, godless man, pray, are you 
bound i°hi P s Ms weather * sound in mind, when 4 you in Aulis place your 



SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 9 1 

child that should be dear, just like a calf 
before the altars, and then sprinkle sacrificial 
meal upon her head ? 

Agamemnon. What means all this ? 

Soldier. Why, how was Ajax mad when 
with his sword he killed the sheep ? He did 
no violence unto x his wife or child, and though ■ Tecmessa and Eury- 

7 ° saces. 

he cursed the sons of Atreus much, he did 
no harm to Teucer, nay, nor e'en Ulysses. 

Agamemnon. True : but I appeased the 
gods with blood on purpose to set free the 
ships fast bound upon the hostile shore. 

Soldier. But surely with your own blood, 
madman. 

Agamemnon. With my own, but I'm not 

mad. 2 . 2 End of pretended 

He who shall form ideas that don't agree 
with truth, and are confused through the 
disturbance in men's minds that guilt will 
cause, shall be esteemed deranged, nor will it 
matter whether he go wrong through folly or 
through rage. When Ajax slays the un. 
offending sheep, as you say, he is mad : 
and when you perpetrate a crime to win an 
empty name are you right in your mind? 
and is your heart free from all fault when 
it's upheaved by passion's tide ? Suppose 
a man should take about a pretty lamb 
in a sedan, get ready clothes for it, and 
maids and gold, as for a daughter, call it 
Rufa or Pusilla, and intend that it should be 
the bride of some brave man, the magistrates 3 correspond 1 "^ very ^ich 
would take all legal rights away from him, S^SSL* our own 



92 SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 

and the administration of his property would 
pass to his sane relatives. And- what of him 
who gives to death a daughter, like a brute 
and speechless lamb? Is he in his right 
mind ? Ne'er say he is. So, then, where 
there is vicious folly, there the greatest mad- 
ness dwells. The criminal will be distraught, 
and round the man whom specious fame has 
dazzled, the war-goddess who exults in blood 
will ring her thunders and send mad. Now 
come and join me in my censures upon 
luxury and prodigals, for well philosophy 
i vinco for evinco, to will l show that foolish spendthrifts are insane. 

prove, is rarely found in 

prose. The moment that some man received a 

■ The talent was worth 2 quarter of a million pounds his father left, he 
issued orders by his slaves that fishmongers 
and fruiterers, that poulterers, perfumers, 
and that godless mob that dwell in street 
Turarius, that sausage-sellers and buffoons, 
* " Veiabro :"— there 3 cheesemongers, oilmen, and the AKS ~ 

was a marsh once at the ... 4 Omne macel- 

bottom of the Aventine dealers in both 4 fen and flesh, lum -" . The ab - 

hill, where commodities ' stract is put for 

were carried in barges ShOUlQ Oil the lllOrrOW all COllie the concrete, the 

(veho), and afterwards . shambles for the 

a street for cheese- tO lllS HOUSC dealers. 

What then took place ? They came in 
crowds. The pander was the spokesman, 
and said this : — " Whatever I or each of these 
men have at home, think that your own, and 
send for it at once or else another day." Just 
iHe turns first to one, ij sten to tne kind young man's replv : "You 

and then another trades- J & rv vy " 

sleep in hunting-leggings cased in the Luca- 
nian snow, that I may dine upon a boar ; 
and you catch in your drag-net from the 
stormy sea, the fish I eat. I am not worthy, 



SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 93 

idle as I am, to have all this : away with it ! 
Here, take eight thousand pounds, you take 
the same, and you take thrice as much from 
whose house runs your wife so oft when called 
by me." 

The actor ^Esop's ! son drew from 2 Metella's i iEsopus was a ceie- 

... - .... . brated tragic actor. 

ear a splendid pearl, and melted it m vinegar, 2 Meteiia was divorced 

. . . .. - 1 from Caecilius Lentulus 

SO that, forSOOth, he might gulp dOWn at Spinther, on account 

... . . . . of her amours with 

once eight thousand pounds ; and how was Doiabeiia. 

he less mad than if he had thrown that same 

precious stone into a swiftly running stream, 

or the great sewer of the town? The sons 

of Quintus Arrius, those brothers of such 

3 wondrous worth, true twins in trifling and 3 ironical. 

rascality, and love of all that's bad, were wont 

to buy up 4 nightingales at an enormous price. 4 The nightingale was 

And in which class should they be ranked? modern*" ortolan." 

Should they be marked with white, as sane, 

or black, as though insane? Again, all 

grown-up men, whom building baby-houses, 

yoking mice to go-carts, or the game of odd 

and even should delight, would be affected 

with insanity. If now philosophy shall prove 

that lawless love is still more childish e'en 

than this, and that it makes no difference 

if yOU Should 5 play at WOrkmp- in the dust 5 Pretending seriously 
J ° to build forts, and moats, 

as erst you played when three years old, or and castles. 

suffer anxious grief through fondness for a 

courtesan ; pray would you do what 6 Polemon 6 An effeminate and 

. luxurious Athenian 

reformed once did : would you give up those youth. 
implements of luxury, the shoe-socks, elbow 
cushions, comforters, as he is said, though 
drunk, to have by stealth torn off the 



94 SATIRE III. BOOK II. 

i They wore them on * garlands from his neck, when he was repri- 

both the head and neck. 1 #• -i * i ••■ 

2 Xenocrates. The manded bythe soberwords of the -philosopher? 

storv is that as he was _ . . . . . 

reeling drunk through When you reach fruit to children m a 

Athens, he heard Xeno- , .,. - ^ 

crates teaching phiio- pet, they will refuse. Suppose you say 

sophv close bv, and went . -*r a i f . -i XT t 

tom6ckhim,butwasuiti- to one, My 6 darling, take it: it says, No, I 

matelv convinced by his ,, ■ • -, r ', t ' '. 

arguments, and became WOn t, DUt Wishes for it, if yOU give it not J 
gjitea reformed cha- ^ ^ ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

lover of a courtesan when shut S^SSSS? 

OUt from her house, Who asks re P r ? a ch and an- 
ger find noplace; 

himself if he shall go to or ™ hile that - of en " 

° dearment is com- 

shall keep away from that place ™°* enough. 

. r With us the term 

whither he quite meant to go d °s is not used 

as an endearing 

again, though not sent for ; and one, even in such 

. & ' phrase as "Aha! 

clings close to the door that he youyoungdog!" 

_ . __„ although there is 

pretends to hate? What, shall I no anger in such 
not approach, says he, now she, 
unasked, invites? or should I rather think 
of ending all my pain? She shut me out, 
now calls me back ; what ? — should I go ? 
No, not if she implore me to. Hear now 
a slave much wiser than his lord : " My 
lord, a thing that knows no bounds or 
plan will not be treated by restraint and 
plan. In love there are these ills : war 
first, then peace; and if a man should 
try to fix upon some settled system for 
himself all this that is well-nigh as fickle as 
the weather, and rolls on as blind chance 
guides, he would effect no more than if he 
4 Lovers used to place tried to act the madman with some plan and 

the moist seeds of fruit 

between the first fingers bounds, u hat ? — when you pluck the seeds 

of each hand, and jerk . . , _ . . . 

them out: if they hit the from 4 Picene apples, and feel joy if haply you 

ceiling, it was a lucky . .... « ••• -v ttt L , ^ 

omen. have hit the ceiling, are you sane ? What ? — 



SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 95 

when you utter 1 lisping lovers' words with * t^ words are sup- 

J x o posed to be struck back 

aged mouth, how are you less mad than the by the roof of the mouth, 

1 1 i_ 1 -, 9 * j j and the sound so weak - 

man who builds the baby-house? ''Add ened. 

bloodshed tO yOUr foolish love, and With a more heinous crimes as 
-. in -r» i i J i J i a wors t phase of mad- 

sword stir up the fire. Fray, when but lately ness. 

3 Marius leapt off a rock, when he had struck ^f^^SS'^ 

down Hellas, was he frenzied, or will you f n e d n g[ le d hom he loved 

acquit the man of madness, and condemn 

him on the charge of crime, affixing, as men 

do, to things, 4 terms nearly similar? . 4 Called" ;w«:^" 

07 J in the btoic teaching. 

There was a 5 freedman's son, an old man, 5 He now mentions the 

absurd superstition to 

who, though sober, — in the morning, — would which the lower orders 

... were subject, and chooses 

with hands washed with religious care, run the freedman's son to 

_ . . . , fi ..... represent his class. 

up and down the streets, and pray like this : ■ Men who were going 

,, _, - , , . to pray used to wash 

" Save me alone, and tis not much I ask, their hands. 

save me alone from death ; for surely it is 

easy for the gods." The man was sound 

enough in 7 ear and eye, although an owner ?/.*., in body. 

of a slave like him would, when he tried to used the words "sanus 

.. , . , . . , (est) corpore et animo " 

sell, not warrant him as sound m mind, he is sound in mind and 
unless he loved lawsuits. 8 Chrysippus classes s c'hrysippus, a great 
all these superstitious men as well among the t0ic p ° sop er * 
fruitful family of mad 9 Menenius. " O King 9 Menenius was a 

madman of the day, 

of heaven, who dost bring upon men and re- known to every one. 

move from them dread pain and sickness," 

cries the mother of a child that has been ill for 

full five months, " if but the ague leave my 

son, 10 upon the morning of the day on which jo a hint at the Jewish 

you may proclaim a fast, he shall stand naked bega/tob? Infetourat 

in the Tiber's stream." Suppose some chance J^ASKSSSSS 

or doctor's aid have raised the sick child in nvers ' 

from his deadly peril, then the crazy mother 

will stick him upon the chilly river's bank, 



96 SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 

so bring the fever back, and prove his death, 
affected, pray, in mind with what disease ? 
Of course with superstition. 

This, then, the defence Stertinius, fit to 

1 As wise as the ceie- be called the l eighth wise man, srave me, his 

brated seven wise men. ° . 

friend, so that I should not with impunity 
hereafter be attacked. The man who shall 
have called me mad shall be called so him- 
self as often, and shall learn to look at his 

2 An allusion to ^Esop's own fault s that hang, as 2 ^Esop says, upon his 

fable, in which our .,.,., , 

neighbours' faults are in DaCK that he Can t See. 

a bag in front, our own ^ A c , • r , n •. 

in a bag behind. Horace. O Stoic, after all your loss, may 

you sell whatsoe'er you buy at more than 

3 " Sic " implies this, what you gave, 3 but on condition that you 

tell me with what sort of folly you think 
I am mad, since there's more kind than one ? 
For I think I am sound in mind. 

4 Argument : — One of Damasippus. What, when 4 Agave carried 

the chief characteristics . 

of madness is the igno- in her hands the head of her unlucky son, 

ranee of the fact of being _. _ , _ . 

mad. cut from the neck, did she herself think she 

Agave was the , ^ 

mother of Pentheus, king Was mad f 

that Bacchus W was a^od, Horace. Well, I admit that I'm a fool, let 
by hkmother^ho was m ^ allow the truth, and even mad; but only 
a Bacchanal. tell me clearly this : with what disease of 

mind you think me labouring. 

Damasippus. Then listen : — first you build ; 

5 We use the phrase — I mean vou vie with 5 bi^er men, although 

" bigger men " for more J ' . 

wealthy. you are from top to toe scarce two feet high, 

He alludes to Horace's . 

Sabine villa, and, per- and yet you laugh at b I urbo s mien and gait 

haps, a portico he was . . 

building. when clad in arms, as too ambitious for so 

{ '> Turbo was a dwarf .. _ . . . .it 

and gladiator. small a frame : though how are you the less 

ridiculous ? Pray, is it right that you as well 
should do whate'er your patron does, although 



SATIRE III. — BOOK II. 97 

you are so different from him, XhaXyou, so low, 

should vie with him so high in rank ? The 

young ones of a frog, when by the old frog 

left, were trampled down by a calf s hoof, and 

when one had escaped, it told the dam how 

that a mighty beast had crushed its brother 

frogs. Then asked the dam, How great was it? 

and swelling out her skin, said, Surely it could 

not have been so great as this ? The young 

frog answered, Half as great again. Well, surely 

not so great ? then asked the dam. Then 

said the young one, You will never equal it, 

although you burst yourself. This simile is 

nearly suited to your case. Then add your 

scribbling verses, that is, feed the flames with 

oil : for if a single man be sane who writes, 

then you will be sane too. I mention not 

your 'dreadful temper. cartel * % ^ 

Horace. There now, stop. 

Damasippus. I speak not of your style of 
living that exceeds your means. 

Horace. Come, Damasippus, keep yourself 
to your affairs alone. 

Damasippus. Nor of your countless pas- 
sionate amours. 

Horace. O greater madman, prithee spare 
one who is not so mad as you. 



SATIRE IV.— BOOK II. 

This Satire is written with the purpose of separating men who made glut- 
tony their chief pleasure, from the true followers of Epicurus, one of which 
Horace himself professed to be to some extent. 

Catius Miltiades was a freedman of Catius Insuber, mentioned by Cicero, 
Ep. ad Famulos, 15, 16, I ; a writer on the art of cookery, and the laughing- 
stock of all Rome. He professes to have received, as if from an oracular 
shrine, some rules for gastronomy of paramount importance to life, and the 
satire is increased by the fact that most of Catius's rules run counter to 
received custom in eating and drinking. 



"Catius" is not the Horace. And whence comes Catius, and 

vocative, but implies — 7 

"hie homo in quo Catium whither is he bound ? 

agnoscere nobis vide- 

mur." The ellipses are Catius. I cannot stay to talk : desirous as 

' venit " and " tendit." 

1 The mnemonic art was I am to fix connecting Memory links to some 

known to ancient orators 

and philosophers. new rules, so excellent that they surpass what 

Anytus, Meietus, and Socrates, Pythagoras, or learned Plato wrote. 

Lycon, were the accusers J ° 

of Socrates. Anytus was Horace. I know I'm wrong for interrupting 

a leather-dresser, who . . . 

had Long entertained a you at so inopportune a time, but prithee, 

personal enmity against . 

soc-ates, because he with your wonted kindness pardon me ; and 

blamed his avarice in . 

depriving his sons of the you 11 soon recollect the little you may now 

benefit of learning. _ . . , , . r . , 

forget, be that due to a natural or artificial 

As Catius sees that . ,_...-.... 

Horace does not want to power, for you are wonderfully gifted in both 

talk of anything else, he 

is glad to tell him the WayS. 

rules, and so to fix them ^ . . XT , 

on ins own memory. Latins. Nay, but my very purpose was to 



SATIRE IV. — BOOK II. 99 

recollect them all as matters of a subtle sort, 
and told in subtle language too. 

Horace. Pray tell me the man's name ; 
and tell me too if he be Roman or a foreigner. 

Catius. The rules themselves I'll tell in 
philosophic style from memory ; their author's 
name shall be suppressed : — 

" Be sure and send to table l eggs of oval ? Eggs dways appeared 

00 with the first course 01 a 

shape, for they have better flavour and are Roman dinner. 

whiter than the round, and oval ones are 

closer in consistence too, and keep unmixed 

the 2 male yolk they contain. The broccoli 2 Pliny/' Nat. Hist.," 

. • -m i • i r i i 10, 8 74, " Feminam 

that grows in well-drained fields is sweeter edunt, quse roumdiora 
than that is that 3 grows round Rome ; nought 55!" 1 Ur ' 

, 1 . 1 , 1 -, c j 3 Because of the many 

is more tasteless than the produce of a garden fishponds and streams. 

that's not drained enough. Suppose a guest 

has paid an unexpected visit at the close of 

day, to save the fowl from proving tough 

and disagreeable to taste, I will 4 instruct you 4"Doctuseris"=dbce- 

., • -r, , • ,, • • bere or " docetor a me." 

now to souse it in .balerman: — this wine « Malum responsare " 
will make it tender. Truffles and mush- "piVfid e unwFdere/* wl or 
rooms from meadows are the best; one does " canere indoctum: " 
not well to trust in 5 other sorts. That man 5/.*, sl2 chas grow in 
will live a healthy life who after 6 lunch shall ^xi^piurar'prandia" 
eat ripe mulberries culled from the trees oTtheTabit of 'dofng so 
before the mid-day sun. 7 Aufidius did wrong d ^Aufidius was not 
to make the whet of honey mixed with ^SSto^Sk^S 
strong Falernian, since we should give the fattemn s peacocks, 
hungry stomach nought but what is mild; 
with milder mead one would far better whet 
the appetite. Suppose you want a pill, the 
mussel common shell-fish, and low-growing 
sorrel-plant, but mind, with some white Coan 



100 SATIRE IV. — E00K II. 

wine, will set you right. The waxing moon 
fills out the slimy shell-fish with both juice 
and size, but few seas are productive of the 
richest kinds. The giant mussel from the 
Lucrine lake excels the Baian purple fish ; 
i circeii, a town of La- the oyster at ^irceii grows, sea-urchins near 

tium. Misenum, a town . ... 

in Campania. Misenum s cape ; Tarentum in wide-opening 

scallops prides itself. 

" And yet, not any one you please should 

rashly arrogate skill in the bon vivanfs art ere 

- Ji Rabo,"iphaosophi- he has tested well the subtle philosophic sys 

cal system, is purposely n , v • ,. ■ . r .» 

used because Catius tern flavours have, a or is t enough to be the 

thought gastronomy and r -\ rr r j r i i 

philosophy nearly syno- first to bear off from some dear fishmonger s 

nymous " shop the fish he has, although you do not know 

which fish sauce suits, and which, when fried, 

3 The guests used to the sated 3 guest will soon begin again to eat. 

lean on the left elbow, . _ 111 

and raise themselves The boar of L Ribna fed too upon the holm 

slightly as they dined, . . , . 

and when sated used oaks mast, Dends by its weight the large 

to recline on the cushion .... - . , , • • • j 

or pillow. round dishes of the man who shuns insipid 

meat ; for the Laurentine boar is bad to eat, 
coarse-fed on sedge and reeds. The vine 

4 Because of the bitter- don't always give us 4 kids well fit for food. 

ness of its leayes : kids \ 

that feed in the lawns The connoisseur will try to find the shoulders 

and groyes are the best. ... „ 

of the hare that ever is with young. Ere my 
nice taste came in, none studied and found 
out the qualities of fish and fowl and season 
for their use. The skill of some produces 
nothing but new kinds of sweets. By no 
means is't enough to give one's whole atten- 
tion to one point, as though a man should 
carefully provide for this alone, I mean that 
his wine should be good, though careless 
with what sort of oil he dress his fish. If 



SATIRE IV. — BOOK II. IOI 

you shall place the l Massic wine beneath clear . \ The MassIc was » 

. . rich Campanian wine. 

skies, whatever thickness there may be, will 
be refined by the night breezes, and the 
bouquet that affects the head will leave the 
wine : but it is spoilt, and loses its full flavour 
if strained through a linen bag. The con- 
noisseur who mingles the 2 Surrentine wine 2 Surrentum, now Sor- 
rento, a maritime town 

with dregs of the Falernian, successfully col- of Campania. 

lects the sediment with pigeon's Qgg; for then 

the yolk sinks down, and rolls with it all 

foreign substances. Restore the sated zest 

for drink by fried prawns, and by Libyan 

snails, for 3 salad rises on the stomach that is „ 3 Really lettuce. The 

Romans used to eat salad 

bilious after wine: it rather needs to be with vinegar to diminish 

the power of the wine at 

refreshed and roused by ham or by smoked the end of their dinner ; 

J m but remember that the 

sausages ; nay, it would e'en prefer all highly satire often consists in 

, V,. , , \ , , J Catius's disregard of 

seasoned * dishes that are brought when acknowledged custom. 

, - -, . , ,,_„. 4 So Suetonius tells us 

steaming hot from filthy eating-house. Tis thatViteiiiususedtodo. 

well worth while to thoroughly find out the 

qualities of sauce, both simple and compound. 

The 5 simple kind is made up of sweet olive ■ The , sim P le sauce is 

1 * olive oil, new wine, and 

oil, and 'twill be suitable to mingle this with tunny brine. The com- 

° pound is the above with 

rich new wine and tunny brine; that same the additions mentioned. 

which the Byzantine salting-jars are strongly 

flavoured with. When this has been well 

blended with chopped herbs, and boiled, and 

stood to cool, and has been sprinkled with 

the saffron of Cilicia, 6 complete the compound 6 Literally, M add be- 

sides," the future being 

sauce with oil the berry of ' Venafran olives used imperatively. 

7 Venafrum w as a city 
yields. in the extreme north of 

t —. T _. . . - . -. Campania. 

14 The Picene apples are inferior to those 
of Tibur in their juice, and this I tell you, 
for they are superior in look. The grape 



102 SATIRE IV. BOOK II. 

i Nothing is known of they call u Yenucula' will do for storing up 

the Venucula. The Alban ., - « , , , 

was a common in jars ; the Alban you would more correctly 
dry in smoke. 'Tis found that I first placed 
by every guest in clean small plates this 
Alban grape and apples, lees of wine and 
caviar, white pepper and black salt, well 
dusted o'er it with a sieve. It is a dreadful 
error to spend five-and-twenty pounds in the 
fish mart, and then to cramp the fish so used 
to room on much too small a dish. It 
causes great disgust, suppose a slave with 
hands made greasy as he licks the soup or 
sauce he stealthily secretes, has touched a cup; 
and so it does, suppose unpleasant sediment 
2 Literally, how great? cling to the oft-used bowl for wine. 2 How 

understanding a replv 

denying the extent of the small the sum one has to spend on besoms, 

dinner-napkins, and sawdust ! and yet, if they 

be not provided, 'tis a flagrant instance of 

bad taste. Is't possible that you sweep tesse- 

• They had floors of late d floors 3 with dirty brooms, and cover 

p?e C ces of ° U whk°e rne and purple ottoman s with unwashed coverlets of 

mtsa^'anTatoofsmal! chintz? forgetting that, in such proportion as 

o^ua^Tof marble! theSe min0r thin S S C0St mUch leSS time and 

grooms wers. made monev t0 pr0 vide, their absence is more 
fairly censured than the lack of luxuries that 
nobles' boards alone can have the fortune to 
possess." 

Horace. Most learned Catius, appealed to 
by our friendship and the gods, remember 
that whithersoe'er you go. you take me to 
attend these lectures on good living ; for 
however accurately you may tell them all 
from memory, you will not as the oracle's 



SATIRE IV. — BOOK II. 



IO3 



mouthpiece give such delight as the philo- 
sopher himself could give. Besides, there 
is the man's own look and mien, which, blest 
in having seen, you don't think much about, 
because you've had the lucky chance, but I 
feel 1 quite a strong desire to gain the power _ ia parody of Lucretius, 
of visiting those far-off sources of philosophy, accidie J fontes, nt 2q2e 
and getting golden rules for living happily. 



haurine.' 



SATIRE V.— BOOK II. 



This Satire contains, in a pretended dialogue between Ulysses and 
Teiresias, a blind soothsayer of Thebes, an invective against fortune- 
hunters, and a description of their various artifices. 



i That is, his sufferings Ulysses. Teiresias, besides what youVe *al- 

and safe return. _ 

ready told, at my request say by what arts 
* By shipwreck and and means I can regain the wealth 2 IVe lost ? 
Why do you laugh ? 

Teiresias. What ! is it possible that one so 
shrewd as you is not content with getting 
back to Ithaca, and seeing once again your 
hearth and home ? 

Ulysses. O thou who ever tellest truth to 
all, thou seest how stript and destitute I 
come back home according to thy prophecy, 
and by the suitors all my best wines have 
been plundered and my cattle killed ; and 
yet both birth and merit are more worthless 
than seaweed unless accompanied by means. 

Teiresias. Well, since, to speak plain truth, 
you shrink from poverty, just hear a brief 
description of the means by which you may 
grow rich. Suppose a thrush, or some espe- 



SATIRE V. — BOOK II. 



*°5 



cial gift be made you, let it speedily be sent 
to that man's house, where gleams the splen- 
dour of a handsome fortune, if but owned by 
an old man. See that the rich man, who's more 
worthy of your worship than the household iFirstfruitsofthepro- 

. ,ii iiii i duce were offered to the 

gods, taste ere the household gods, your mel- household gods. 
low fruit, and all the produce of your well- 
tilled farm; and though the man shall be 
forsworn, ignoble, stained with brother's blood, 
a slave who ran away, 2 still don't refuse to 2 He might request the 

man to attend him when 

walk upon the left side as a guard if he he went out in public. 

The left side was con- 
Should ask yOU tO. sidered weaker, and more 

-it -i exposed to attack; hence 

UlySSeS. What! I Walk Side by Side tO the expression "tegere 

guard some dirty slave ! I ne'er demeaned 
myself like that at Troy, aye rivalling great 
Ajax or Achilles there. 

Teiresias. Then you'll be poor. 

Ulysses. 3 Well, I will bid my stout heart 3 a parody of line 18 in 

' / J t Odyssey, u. 

bear this great disgrace, for erst I bore still 
greater ills. Now, prophet, tell at once 
whence I can quickly 4 gain this wealth, and 4 For the transitive use 

1 r i 1 of "ruo" confer Plautus, 

heaps Of gold. « Rudens," 2, 6, 58, [' Ibi 

Teiresias. Indeed, I've told you, and now S^iuW^Vir^rGecTrgic 
tell again ; where'er you can, by cunning try Vuit^maie ' P mg^s°Te e - 
to get at old men's wills, and don't, if one or nse '" 
two shrewd fishes have escaped the cunning 
angler after nibbling off the bait, surrender 
hopes because thus tricked, or give up your 
profession. If a case of great or small 
importance shall at any time be tried in 
court \ whichever of the litigants shall be 
both rich and childless, though a rascal, 
though aggressive and unscrupulous he sum- 



106 SATIRE V. BOOK II. 

mon into court a better man, go plead for 
him j despise the citizen who has a better 
reputation and more justice on his side, if he 
shall have a son or a prolific wife at home. 
Say, " Quintus," for example, or say, " Publius," 
— for ears refined do like a handle to the name, 
your merit has made me your friend. I know 
the law's uncertainty; I can plead cases; 
sooner shall whoe'er you please gouge out 
i Literally, "of a rotten my eyes than mock or cheat you of a ! penny 

nut," a proverbial ex- . ..... , . 

pression for a trifle. piece : — my object this, that you lose nought, 
nor be laughed at. Bid him go home, 
and take care of his precious self; become 

2 The roughness of the his advocate yourself ; 2 persist and persevere, 

words, "Persta atque . . 

obdura," themselves im- though ^Alpine bards shall make the glowing 

ply the pertinacity. ., . . ... . ., 

3 vide Sat., i., x., 3 6. dog-star cleave the lifeless statues, or well 

Marcus Furius Bibacu- ri , -, . - , . - . .. , .. 

ius. filled with greasy tripe, they shall describe 

absurd description of the wintry Alps bespattered o'er with hoary 
p^ whether l \x be mid- snow. Some one will with his elbow nudge 

summer or midwinter. ft bystanderj and say? Don ' t you observe his 

unremitting care, devotion to his friends, and 
active zeal ? Then shoals of tunnies will swim 

4 Fathers who were in j your fishponds will increase. 4 Then, too, 

willing to support their . r . .. - . .. . , 

children used to take it any one shall have a weakly son whom he 

them up upon their knees, . 1.1 i 1 j j 1 • r • •• 

vhen lying on the has both acknowledged and is bringing up in 



ground; if not, they were ,-. « r i j*j i 

exposed. the possession of a splendid property; lest 

9, 204, f< " Norfita me ge- a too plain attention to a man who has no 

S&>' ' sublatum5 wife should tell the world your views ; by 

pUes'^tem^eidS sedulous attention gently steal into the hope 

d^^rced h fromtr. orwas ° f bein g left a legacy \ so that your name 

may be insciibed as next heir in his will; 

and that, if any lucky accident have proved 

the young man's death, you then may step 



SATIRE V. — BOOK II. IO7 

into his shoes. This venture seldom fails. Be 
sure that you refuse, and put away from you 
the documents of any man who shall have 
handed you his will to read ; but yet in such a 
way, that by a side look you may quickly 
catch the meaning of the second clause on 
the first page. With swift glance read and 
see if you alone be heir, or co-heir with some 
more. Ofttimes a man who has turned clerk 
instead of member of the * " Board of Five ' The quinqueviri were 

a board 01 five for any 

Commissioners," will cheat the 2 eager raven, official function of an or- 

' ° 7 dinary nature. 

and the fortune-hunter, like Nasica, will be . ? As happened lately 

is implied. 
laughed at by 3 CoranUS. 3 A wealthy man at 

Ulysses. Are you mad, or do you mock 
me purposely, by prophesying riddles such 
as these ? 

Teiresias. Son of Laertes, whatsoever I 
shall say 4 will either happen or will not, just 4 Horace may pur- 

J • rr 7 J posely make the phrase 

as I say : for surely great Apollo grants me ambiguous to show a 

. . / J ° r ° disbelief m the art of 

divination's art. soothsaying. 

Ulysses. Yet still pray tell me, if you may, 
the meaning of your words. 

Teiresias. What time a 5 youthful warrior, , 5 r A "juvenis" might 

' 7 be forty years of age, ana 

the dread of Parthians, a scion sprung from ha y e established a repu- 

A ° tation as a warrior. 

great ^Eneas' stock, shall be renowned by Augustus is meant. 
sea and land, the 6 stately daughter of Nasica, 6 The epithets "state- 
who so hates to pay his debts in 7 full, will b^th ironical. rave 
marry brave Coranus, who will act like this t i re sum hrh^boVrowTd" 
when son-in-law ; he'll to 8 Nasica give his will ^S u y s ; fat her-in- 
and say, " Pray read ;" but he will oft refuse, law ' 
and then at last will take it, and will find no 
legacy, but 9 ruin for himself and friends. 9 "Piorare/'theflW^ 

rr-M c , -j . _ . entendre, is to weep, and 

1 his further rule I give. Suppose, as possibly to go and be hanged. 



108 SATIRE V. BOOK II. 

may be, a mistress, or a freedman should be 
ruling some old dotard; join their partner- 
ship yourself, praise them, that when away you 
also may be praised; this, too, does good, 
1 To take the old man although 'tis far the * best to storm the citadel 

by storm, as it were, .•.-•« . • 

through flattery. itself. -Suppose some man insanely write 

- The student should , , . ai r> 

observe the free use of bad verses \ praise them well. Suppose, too, 

tenses and moods for a y , r , r . . , , 

supposed case in Horace, he be fond of women \ see that he dont 
have to ask you; but unasked and readily 
give your chaste wife to him — so much to be 
preferred. 

Ulysses. Do you think that can be ? Will 
one so modest, so discreet a woman, whom 
the suitors could not turn from virtue's paths, 
be able to be thus seduced ? 

Teiresias. Yes, for the youthful band that 
courted her came, very sparing in rich gifts, 
bent not so much on love as on the cup- 
board's stores. Your wife is chaste thus far, 
but if she once have learnt an aged lover's 
ways, and shared the gain with you, she never 
will be kept from it, no more than dogs from 
a fat skin. In my old age this circumstance 

3 A story probably taken OCCUITed, which I will tell VOU of. 3 At ThebeS 
from some farce or popu- . 

larjest. a shameless woman was thus carried to her 

grave according to her will ; her heir bore 
on his naked shoulders her dead body plen- 
tifully greased with oil, to see, no doubt, if 
4 in which case the heir she could 4 slip away from him when dead; 

hentance? 6 "" and this, I think, because he had stuck too 

close to her while alive. Be wary in your first 
approach ; don't be remiss, nor yet attentive 
to excess. A prater will disgust a peevish 



SATIRE V. BOOK II. IO9 

and morose old man. You should not even 
hold your peace unasked. Act like the l slave J^™^? general 
in comedy; stand with your head bent 2 stiffly ^WffiZJSSZ 
down, like one most terribly afraid. Approach block - 
him with complacent care ; advise him, if the 
air blow fresh, to cautiously wrap up his pre- 
cious head ; relieve him of the crowd by 
thrusting them aside ; lend an attentive ear 
whene'er he cares to talk. Suppose he loves 
incessant praise ; then ply him, till with hands 
upraised to heaven he cry, O stay ! enough ! 
and swell his rising pride with fulsome flattery. 
When he has freed you from 3 protracted slavery 3 That is, by his death, 
and care, and wide awake, you shall have 
heard this, — " Let Ulysses have a fourth of the 
estate ;" say now and then, " So ! is my com- 
rade Dama now no more? * Whence shall I * confer Sat. ii 7 7, 

r i r - i i -x » i -r II6 - There is an ellipsis 

find a friend so brave, so true? and if you of"petam"or"parabo." 

, . , - ,. , . , " Illacrimare" is the im- 

can a little, weep ; you may well hiae your perative of the deponent 
face, that will betray the joy you feel. ve s Est = licet. 
Erect his tomb, that's left to your decision, 
with no niggard 6 hand : the neighbours would 6 {•/•« let j tbe ma( Je of 

00 , . marble, and carved in 

commend a splendidly appointed funeral, basso-reiieyo, and have 

an inscription. 

Suppose, as possibly may be, one of your 

fellow-heirs, now growing old, shall have a 7 "Nummus" and 

"nummus sestertius" 

nasty cough, then say to him, if he should were used to express 

. 1 t « trifling value. Confer 

care to buy a farm or house belonging to cic. pro Rab., Post., 
your share, " I sell it 7 you for anything you 7 p r oserpine is often de- 

1-1 n -r% , • 1 , t-> • j scribed as sending and 

like. But mighty Proserpine drags me away, removing spirits. Confer 

Ivr r 11 Homer, "Odyss.," ii., 

,ong life, farewell. a2 6, 6 3 i, et seg. 



SATIRE VI.— BOOK II. 

Horace had especially desired to be able to escape all business and care 
that prevented him from living as a philosopher should live, and, although 
he was partly able now to do so through his patron's gift, the Sabine villa 
and farm, yet he could not do so as often as he wished. This Satire, then, 
is written in praise of a country life, and against those who were 
either jealous of him, or incessantly importuned him to further their 
pretensions to poetic merit. 



One of my wishes once was this : a plot of 
land of ordinary size, and that there should 
be there a garden, and a stream of running 
water, and a little wood besides. 

The gods have been more generous and 

kind e'en than I wished. Tis well. I ask 

i Maia's son. Maia for nothing further, l Mercury, than that you 

was the mother of Mer- . . 

cury, and Jupiter the make these blessings mine for life. 

father. Mercury pre- . 

sided ov,-r <»pcn gains Since I have not increased my means by 

and business, Hercules . r ... . . .. , 

over secret treasures: perjury or forging wills, and am not likely to 

sec last line of the page. ,. . . , ,, , , . -,, , 

dimmish them by luxury, or idleness and want 
of care : since I don't utter foolish prayers like 
these : " O if that little nook would join my 
farm, which now so spoils its form ! O that 
some lucky chance would show to me a 






SATIRE VI. — BOOK II. Ill 

money-jar as erst to him who, with the trea- 
sure he had found, bought the same field he 
ploughed before as a day labourer, grown rich 
by Hercules' kind help !" — since what I have 
delights me grateful for the same, this is the 
prayer I now address to you : — - weigh down i The word "pmgue" 

. , r , 1 r ir i - means heavy with fat as 

with fat the cattle for myself, their owner, applied to the cattle, 

, ,, , T , . , , , , and heavy and coarse 

and all else I have with produce, but do as applied to the mind. 

. , , . , , Cetera = fields, mea- 

not weigh down my genius, and as you re dows, crops. 
wont, still be my strongest guard. 

Well, then, when I've withdrawn me from 
the city to my cottage on the hills, what 
2 better theme could I then find for these my 2 /.*.-, than the country, 
satires and plain style ? 

There, nor the placeman's baneful race for 
pow'r, nor the dispiriting sirocco, nor the 
autumn's pestilence that brings the 3 cruel 3 An Italian goddess of 

j ,, , , . , funerals, called Libitina, 

death-goddess such gam, destroys my peace, in whose temple was 

O. T_ t_ • i T deposited for every fu- 

thOU Whom We invoke at morn, Or J anUS, neral a piece of money, 

if thou dost prefer the name, through whom bnged'to^the appoint- 

man regulates the day's first toils life's busi- kept! ° f Wrals was 

ness brings, for so the gods have willed, be 

thou my theme's exordium. At Rome you 

hurry me to bail some one. You say, Come, 

up, away, lest some one should oblige by some 

such courtesy before yourself. Although north , 4 J. h f sun , has mucl ? 

J J o less distance to go round 

winds blow fiercely o'er the earth, or winter {n the winte f' and th ? d *y 

J is supposed to be lnflu- 

4 slowly drags along the snowy days upon en , c f d b y the sluggish 

J ° ° . cold and torpidity the 

their narrowed course, you still must go. season brings. 

° 5 Some legal phrase, 

Then after that, when I have uttered such as the phrase from 

. - . Seneca, " Quocunque 

clearly and distinctly words that may bring audivi, certa ciaraque 

. . affero." He would lose 

me some harm, I have to struggle in the the bail if the defendant 
crowd, and roughly jostle loiterers. With be. not appear ' ^ mig t 



112 SATIRE VI. — BOOK II. 

angry curses some one shamelessly assails 
me thus : — What want you, madman ? What 
are you about ? You'd knock down all that 
barred your way, if you were speeding back 
to see your patron, thinking of nought else 
but him. This is delightful, this is sweet as 
honey, I'll confess. But still the moment 
that I've reached the gloomy Esquiline, 
i Centum = sexcenta, then > endless business that does not be- 

ooo, the usual indefinite 

number with the Romans. i ng to me annoys and hems me in, and 

2 He says this to him- thus I think : — 2 " You know that Roscius 

implored you to appear to give him evidence 

3 The Puteai was so to-morrow at the 3 praetor's court ere seven 
bknce tothe mon^oTa o'clock. And, Quintus, the official clerks 
Scribonius'Lfbo. ul y prayed that you would remember to return 

Afte^the 155 battle *of to-day to see about a matter of unlooked-for 
pSe 1, sec?e ta a ry e to *a and great public interest." And, asks another, 
poS°to b h U ave he soid S "he tak e care that your patron stamp these 4 docu- 

° ffi 4 C peX n ps a astate letter mentS with his 0Wn SeaL Suppose yOU Say, 
which Te mm Emp a er or; " r11 tr 7 I " " Y ° U Can >" he anSWCTS, " if yOU 
P ^(MScenas)^ned: ^ ^ ™ P OrtuneS yOU. 

It is nearly eight years now since first 
Maecenas looked on me as one of his own 
friends, but only thus far as to think me 
one whom he might care to take up in 
his carriage when he went upon a journey, 
and to whom he would entrust such trifles 
5 As once the question, as, — " How goes the time?" or, — 5 "Can the 

"Will Heenan beat Tom ' & * . 

Bayers?" gladiator Syrus, think you, beat Gallma ? " or, 

The epithet Thrax or . . 

Threx means gladiator. — " The chill November morning air takes 
hold of those who do not wrap up well," — 
and such remarks as well may be committed 
to the ears of those who talk of all they 



SATIRE VI. — BOOK II. 113 

hear. Through all this time, from day to day 

(to use the people's words), ' our friend was 1 Noster is humorously 

11 y put for *' ego. Confer 

more exposed tO jealousy. If he, together German, unser Mann; 

J ° the common people 

with Maecenas, had gone to the theatre, or called him this. 

played at tennis with him on the plain of 

Mars, all cried alike, O fortune's favourite ! 

Suppose some sinister report spread from the 

2 Rostra through the streets, all those who 2 The "Rostra" was a 

... stage for speakers, and 

meet me question thus : — Dear sir, I ask the space around it, in 

r -i'-ii the Forum, was adorned 

you, for you must know, since you have the with the beaks of con- 
ear of government, — Have you heard aught quere s ipb ' 
about the 3 Dacians? Not I, indeed, say I. 3 War was going on 

with these allies of Mark 

Then they reply, Ah ! how satirical you Antony. 

always like to be ! When I rejoin : May 

heaven destroy me if I've heard a word; — 

another says, How now ? Pray does Augustus 

mean to give his army land he promised them 

in 4 Sicily or Italy ? Then if I vow that I don't 4 Sicily is called " th- 

quetra " from its trian- 

know at all, all wonder at me as a man of guiar shape. The divi- 
sion of land referred to 

quite unique reserve that none can penetrate, is that that took place in 

. . . . , i r tne middle of the winter 

And so unhappily I lose the day, and oft afterthebattieofActium. 

, ,, . -, ,, -^ . when the Emperor went 

repeat these longing words, — "Dear country, to Bnmdusium to quell 

when shall I see thee again?" When shall amutinyo 

I be allowed to drink in sweet forgetfulness 

all life's cares, sometimes by reading ancient 

lore, sometimes by the " siesta," by the 

u do Ice far niente" too? When 5 will that. 5 This is pleasantly 

ironical, intimating that 

common bean that old Pythagoras believed although people gene- 

. rally might despise such 

akin to him, and with it, cabbages well plain food, yet Pytha- 

. , .. . 1 , r goras, the great philoso- 

dressed with greasy bacon, be served up for P her, did not. There is 

_ . , . , . , , also an allusion to the 

me ? Ah me ! those evenings and those idea of Pythagoras 

j. r. r j i'i r * j 3 which supposed the vital 

dinners, fit for gods, at which my friends and principle of his father or 

I, • -i r i. 1.1 ? some other relative to be 

eat in the presence of my own hearth s i n a bean. 



114 SATIRE VI. — BOOK II. 

gods, and feed my merry pert slaves born 
at home with dishes that we've feasted first 
upon. Each guest, just as he fancies, freed 
from foolish laws, drains glasses of unequal 
size, though one with stronger head takes 
potent draughts, another sooner feels the 
gladdening influence with weaker ones. And 
so it is that conversation is struck up, but 
not about our neighbours' country seats or 
houses, nor about the dancing of Rome's 
hJ*&Z2£3&&, 'ballet-masters, but we then discuss what 
m favour with the Em- muc ] 1 m0 re nearly interests ourselves, and 

peror. J ' 

what to know not brings us harm : we learn 
by argument if men be happy through their 
wealth or virtues, what attracts us to form 
friendships, — interest, or principle ; what is 
the nature of the abstract good, and what 
the greatest good ? Meantime my neighbour 
Cervius will tell us witty nursery tales, well 
suited to the point. For if one ignorantly 
kno^^oSor Trdiiul! P raise the ' miser's wealth that breeds anxiety, 
butthathewasanavari- he thus begins : — Now once upon a time 'tis 

cious neighDour. ° t 

said a country mouse did entertain a city 
mouse in its poor hole, a well-known guest a 
well-known friend ; industrious and thrifty of 
its stores, the country mouse : — but still in 
such a way as to sometimes relax its anxious 
mind for hospitality. In brief, it neither 
grudged the stored chick-pea, nor oat with 
its long husk ; it carried in its mouth a raisin 
and half-eaten bits of bacon, and then gave 
them to its guest because it wished, by 
varying the food, to conquer the disgust 



SATIRE VI. — BOOK II. 115 

showed by the guest, who scarcely touched 
each tit-bit with its haughty teeth, although 
the host himself ate spelt and tares, and left 
his guest the richer food. At length the 
1 city mouse spoke thus: said he, "Dear i The city mouse re- 

. . presents the Epicurean 

friend, what joy is it to live so hard a life philosopher. 
upon the mountain ridge with its rough grove 
of trees ? Can you prefer a town's society to 
the wild woods ? Come, start, take my ad- 
vice, and 2:0 with me, since creatures 2 earthly 2 Perhaps a parody o 

07 J Euripides, Alcestis, 782, 

all possess by lot but transitory lives, and since and following few lines, 
there's no escape from death for great or 
small : — because of this, I say, dear friend, 
while you've the chance, live happy in a 
pleasant state, and well remember how short- 
lived you are." When words like these pre- 
vailed upon the country mouse, he nimbly 
leapt forth from his hole, and then they both 
began their purposed way, because they 
wished to steal beneath the city walls by 
night. And now, as 3 sin2rs the epic bard, ,. 3 A parody of an epic 

& . . lme > as in Sat., I., v., 9. 

" the veil of midnight hid the sky " — when 
both set foot in some rich noble's home, 
where fabrics dyed with scarlet threw a bril- 
liant lustre over ottomans of ivory, and many 
courses were left from a banquet held the 
day before, and were in baskets piled up 
near to them. Well, when the host had 
made the country mouse recline at length 
upon a purple rug, he ran about like girt- 
up slave, brought in the 4 courses one by one, 4 "Contiwuat" — im- 

. . plies that he took care 

as Servants WOUld and did the waiting Well, there should be no break 
r • i»ii-i 1 r™ m the service. 

first tasting every dish he brought. The 



Il6 SATIRE VI. — BOOK II. 

country mouse reclining there, exulted in his 
change of lot, and played the boon com- 
panion in his happy state ; Avhen suddenly a 
dreadful creaking of some folding-doors made 
both leap from their seats; in fear they 
rushed through all the chamber, and half 
dead with fright made more hot haste, di- 
rectly that the house with its high roofs rang 
with the mastiffs' barks. 
Of course the country Then said the country mouse, I want not 

mouse said this after they ..-.., ,. jr j n i 

had found shelter in the life like this, and fare thee well; my wood 

usual crevice into which j i i r ' ±. ■ r i 

the city mouse retired in and hole, sale as it is from treacnerous 
surprise, will solace me with humble tares 
for food. 



SATIRE VII.— BOOK II. 



In this Satire Horace, by the mouth of a slave taking advantage of the 
licence allowed at the Saturnalia — a feast of three days' duration, from the 
17th to the 20th of December, to commemorate the good old times when all 
men were nearly equal — represents the foolish Stoic philosophy of Cris- 
pinus. He also wittily describes the character and disposition of slaves. 
He probably also aims a side-blow at the habit then so universal in Rome 
as almost to include slaves, of trying to get a smattering of philosophy. 

He also shows that men who are devoted to pleasure or luxury, carried 
away by excessive eagerness in any pursuit, misers or flatterers, are just as 
much slaves as those who are called so by name. 



Davits, ^'ve been long waiting for an oppor- ^SSK^SiSS 

tunity, and though I wish so much to say a few Horace, he hesitates to 

+ ' ° J make free use at first of 

words to you, feel afraid because I am a slave. a *«* ^} so rarel y 

J 1 occurred in the perpetual 

Horace Is't DaVUS ? war between master and 

slave. 

Davits. Yes. 'tis Davus, and he is a ser- 
vant faithful to his master, honest, too, as far 
as is required, — that is, 2 he's not too good to 2 Like our proverbial 

phrase, "That child is 
live. too good to live." 

Horace. Come, then, since so our ancestors 
decided, take the licence that December 
gives, speak on. 

Davus. Some men do glory in their vices 
with consistency, and have a settled plan \ 



Il8 SATIRE VII. — BOOK II. 

1 "Natat"=huc iiiuc but many more are changeable, adopting 

now what's right, now guilty of what's wrong. 

-Priscus, as the context One 2 Priscus, often seen to have three rings 

shows, was a man of sen- 
atorial rank, but nothing UpOIl his fingers, often none at all, lived so 

more is known. . 

irregularly that one moment he would wear 
3 Senators wore a broad the 3 senator's broad stripe, another that the 

stripe on their tunics, .. . , 

knights a narrow one. knights all wear. He d leave some princely 
worn on 'thTieff hand. y mansion where he dwelt, and suddenly hide 
in some hut from which a freedman of the 
better class could scarcely come out decently. 
He'd choose to live now as a rake at Rome, 
anon as a philosopher at Athens, born sub- 
4TheangerofVertum- jected to the ire of all the 4 gods of change 

nus was supposed to 

be manifested by the there are. 

changes he went through. . • - i i i • i -i i 

5 Nothing further is Again, a certain ° dandy hired for daily wage, 

known of Volanerius. . . . . . . . . 

and kept a man to take the dice up from the 
board for him, and throw them in the box, 
when now the gout, he so deserved, struck all 
his finger-joints, and in proportion as he kept 
consistently to that same vice he was less 
wretched and less culpable than he, who, 
e That is, one who at 6 like a sailor, works with now too taut, and 

one time lives carelessly 

and loosely, at another nOW tOO slack a rope. 

over-strictly. _ . 

"Slaves were often pun- Horace. You 7 rascal, will you not at once 

khed by wearing a frame .. . . . r .. . . 

of wood round theimecks tell me the bearing of all this stale trash? 

like a V or Greek A. y-^. Tjl , . - T 

JJavus. It bears upon yourself, I say. 

Horace. How so, you scoundrel? 

Davus. Why, you praise the happiness and 
character the people of old times possessed, 
and yet, if any god were to compel you to 
adopt their life, you would persistently refuse, 
because you either do not really think that 
what you talk so loud about is better, or 



SATIRE VII. — BOOK II. II9 

because you are but a weak champion of 
right, and are entangled in the wrong, and 
vainly wish to draw your feet out of the 
moral mire. At Rome you long for country 
life ; when in the country, fickle as you are, 
you praise up to the skies the town you've 
left. Suppose, as possibly may be, you are 
not asked to dine with any one, you laud 
your humble food so free from care, and just 
as though you went to see men, like a 
criminal to gaol, you vow you're fortunate, 
and gratify your self-love with the J thought 1 whereas he really 

, . ii-i gladly accepted all invi- 

that you have not to go and drink at some tations. 

friend's house. But if your patron have, 

quite as an after-thought, invited you to come 

and see him at nightfall, with loud shouts then 

you cry — " Is no one going to quickly bring 

the 2 lantern-oil? Does any one attend ?" — and 2 The Romans used 

, , - . n t r r mi small hand lanterns at 

rush about, as though you fled from foe. 1 he night. 

3 parasites and Mulvius curse you in language J Thus cheated of the 

1 j <-> <j dinner they expected. 

that I can't repeat, and go away. And just 

suppose 4 he says, "Well, I admit that I am 4 Muivius,asthespokes- 

\ \ , .-_._.. man for the others. 

fickle and attracted by my appetite, I sniff in 
gratefully the savour of good cheer ; I'm weak, 
nay, if you wish, a glutton too." What? — would 
you, though you be the 5 same as I am, and s You pretend to be a 

, ... . .. . friend of Maecenas, 

perhaps Still WOrSe, aggressively aSSail me JUSt whereas you really are 
. r . 1-1 • -1 his parasite, as I am 

as if you were superior, and hide your own yours, 
defect though similar in specious words ? 

How if you're found to be more foolish 
than myself, though bought for 6 twenty 6 The drachma was 

. . equal to a denarius, and 

pounds? Don't try tO frighten me With that about tenpence in value. 

fierce look ; restrain your hand and rage while 



120 SATIRE VII. — BOOK II. 

I declare the truths Crispinus' porter told to 

me. You others' wives attract, a common 

woman slaves like me, which of us two the 

i slaves were often more * deserves the cross? When my fierce 

crucified. . , , , . . 

passions urge me on, whoe er she be that 
gratified my wish, though wanton she may be, 
she still can let me go without dishonour or 
anxiety lest some more rich or handsome 
lover should possess her next. And are not 
you what you pretend to be, when, throwing 
off the tokens of your rank, the knightly ring 
and Roman dress, you leave your house like 

2 Disguised in a coarse a base slave instead of an 2 appointed judge, 

cloak with a hood, such 

as slaves wore. while a coarse hooded cloak conceals your 

The 36ojudicesselecti . 

were picked from the perfumed head ? in fear you re introduced, 

senators and knights and . . , . .. . 

tribunes to decide capital and tremble in your inmost soul, while lust 
and terror hold alternate sway. What matters 
it whether you go, as gladiators go, sworn to 
submit to branding, scourging, or the stroke 
of sword, or — shut up in some filthy chest in 
which the maid, accomplice in her mistress' 
guilt, has packed you, — you're obliged to 
crouch with head and knees together drawn ? 

3 The husband could Has not 3 the husband of the erring lady every 
S2*ffiffi£ right to kill you both? Indeed, a better right 

to kill him who seduced the wife. Nay, she 

4 As you do. don't 4 change her dress or leave her home, 

and is but passive in her guilt. Although the 
woman dreads you, and don't trust your 
promises of love, you still will wittingly put 
on the slavish yoke, and trust this raging 
master, lust, with all your property, your life, 
your person and repute. Perhaps you have 



SATIRE VII. BOOK II. 121 

escaped ; no doubt you will then feel afraid, 
and, through experience, will take more care? 
Not you; x you'll try to find another chance iDavushere gets carried 

rr t ,1 r r .1 away by his words, and 

of feeling the same fear, of running the same forgets that he was only 
risk of death, O you, so oft a slave ! Why, ^^*2S& 
what brute beast, when once it has burst comes more personaL 
from its chains, and got away, perversely gets 
itself chained up again ? 

You say, I am not an adulterer ? And, by 
my faith, I am no thief when prudently I 
2 pass by silver cups ; but take away the risk, * i.e., don't steal them, 
and when the barrier's withdrawn, my nature 
will soon lawlessly display itself. Are you 
my master, you subjected to such varied and 
such powerful sway of circumstance and man, 
you whom the 3 manumitting rod, though 3 i n the manumission 

, r . ...... of slaves the owner and a 

thriCe Or IOUr times It ShOUld Strike yOU, friend (assertor in liber- 
, -t j r c • i i r ->\ii tat^m), together with the 

ne er could free from miserable fears? Add slave, appeared before the 
this besides, that bears upon the case no less struck ISJ^Jim witiTa 
than what I've said, (for whether he who 5$£ Sdp™: 
executes another slave's commands be called TSeckre^hat th!Tm£ 
an under slave, as you are wont to say, or £ f ~ e n %?%££ 
fellow-slave as we declare), pray what am I ^S^J^^SC^ 
to you? In truth you, who rule me, are 3£^u5? frSf'ilt hS 
but 4 another's wretched slave, and like the be fre ^, ?, nd s° whither 

7 you will. 

wooden 5 puppet you are moved by strings *{/»afdiow-siave. 

r rr J J o 5 Modern "manon- 

another pulls. ettes." 

Horace. Who then is free ? 

Daims. Why, the philsopher who rules him- 
self, whom neither poverty, nor death, nor 6 Like Cicero's " hu- 

1 J manarum rerum con- 

chains alarm, who can courageously check temptio," which should 

° . not be translated " con- 

his desires, and G fairly estimate the world's dis- tempt for," as it means a 

proper or not undue ap- 

tinctions, one dependent on himself alone, as preciation of anything. 



122 SATIRE VII. — BOOK II. 

i The ancients thought perfect as a ' sphere, so that no outward matter 

fecTshlpe! e m0:>t per " can rest on the polished surface, one whom 

fortune aye attacks with crippled might. 

Pray can you in all this find aught that suits 

your case? Again, some woman asks you 

- Really,^ i, 21S 15s. for 'twelve hundred pounds or more, annoys 
you, drives you from the door, and drenches 
you completely with cold water, then she 
calls you back again ; come, free your neck 
from this disgraceful yoke ; come, say, I'm 
free ! yes, free ! You cannot ; for a harsh 
taskmaster rules your mind, and plies you 
with the spur, though weary, and constrains 
you e'en against your will. Pray, how 
are you, you madman, when you gaze with 

3 Pausias was a cele- rapt attention on a picture 3 Pausias once 

brated child's portrait- . . 

painter of Sicyon, b.c. painted, less in fault than I am when I gaze 
° -iVuivus, Rutuba,and with admiration at the battles of our 4 gladia- 

Pacideianus, were gla- ..... . „ . . 

diators tors with their legs thrown well in front, de- 

•V.*., however roughly picted in red 5 chalk or even charcoal, when, 

done. 

though they actually fought, the combatants 
move to and fro their weapons, and give 
thrusts and parry them ? In such a case 
the slave is called a rascal and a loiterer; 
but you, a critic shrewd, — a connoisseur of 
ancient works of art. I'm thought a worth- 
less wretch when I'm attracted by a smoking 
sacrificial cake ; and does your wondrous 
virtue, your high soul resist the pleasures a 
rich banquet gives? Why does this fondness 
for good living work more harm to me than 
you ? Because I get a beating. And pray 
how do you deserve less punishment in 



SATIRE VII. — BOOK II. I 23 

trying to obtain rich dainties that cannot be 
gained at little cost? And certainly the 
banquet's joys, indulged in to excess, pall on 
the taste ; and the unsteady foot will not 
bear the distempered frame. What? — does 
the slave do wrong who at nightfall exchanges 
for a bunch of grapes a l scraper from the i They used skin- 

scrapers in bathing, made 

baths? and does not he act like a slave who of hom or metal. 

sells estates to gratify his gluttony? Then, 

too, you cannot be consistent for a moment, 

or arrange your leisure as you should; you 

shun your thoughts, you're like a runaway and 

vagabond, now trying to remove your care by 

wine and now by sleep ; but all in vain, for 

close upon your heels the black companion 

presses, and pursues you as you flee. 

Horace. Whence can I get a stone? 

Davus. Where is the need ? 

Horace. Whence arrows? 

Davus. 2 Surely he is mad, or he writes 2 Davus humorously 

nnprrv suggests that there is 

r ucu ;* another fit of poetic 

Horace. If you don't take yourself away at £££ aSX! coT" 
once, you'll join the eight who work now in JESSC "efSp?" 

my Sabine farm. beating as before. 



SATIRE VIII.— BOOK II. 

Xasidienus, a rich parvenu, gave a banquet, at which Maecenas, and 
Fundanius, a celebrated comic poet, were present. 

Horace gives a humorous and satirical account of it by the mouth of 
Fundanius. He describes the ambitious attempts of Xasidienus to impress 
his guests, and Maecenas especially, with his great wealth, and also his good 
taste. The character of Xasidienus throughout is that of a man who shows 
meanness in his attempt to be lavish, pride in his humility ; he is absurd and 
wearisome in his vain efforts to affect the well-bred gentleman, and utterly 
devoid of refinement and sensibility. 



The Arrangement of the Dinner-Table. 



Iinus locus, or Co?is7cla?-is. Mediits. 

Bottom place. Middle place. 



Summits. 
Top place. 



Mjnckkas. 



II. 

Vibidius. 



III. 

Servilius 
Balatro. 



Medius lectus. — Middle couch. 



§ : 

5S 


■ 

2 

< 

— z 

u; 

z 
2 


2 


■ 

_ 

2 

I 
< 


. ■ 

If 

S -^ 


III. 

P0*l IU8, 



Meusa. — Table. 





< 








> 




_^ 




















C 






> 


(A 






K 








































































^ 

»* 


X 


< 




•^ 








v> 




n 




1 


2 






H 


cio 


j. 




G 

•o 
n 














o 


























c 

2 








c 




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2 
















G 








QB 







E." t* 



The guests did not sit at table, but reclined on the couches. 



SATIRE VIII. BOOK II. 1 25 

Horace. How did the wealthy \ Nasi- ] NasTdienjs is P ro- 

J nouncedasif JNasidjenus. 

dienus' banquet please you ? And I ask, H e was probably a far- 

x x J # ... mer °f the public reve- 

because when I was thinking of inviting nues, and wanted some 

aid from Maecenas. 

you, I was informed that yesterday you This use of "ut" (line 

. i)in direct narration be- 

had been drinking there since noon. longs more to colloquial 

Fundanius. So well, that I have ne'er it was bad taste to be- 

- , r , . ,. .. r gin before three o'clock, 

enjoyed myself so much in all my life. as the usual time for the 

-r-r -T-. , ,, 9 . r , . . Roman dinner was not at 

Horace. Pray tell nne,if you veno objection, a ii before that hour. 

i r 1 •. -v 2 So Cicero ad Atticum, 

what course first appeased your eager appetite? i 3 , 42) l, « si grave non 

Fundanius. First, a Lucanian wild boar cau^Y" 1 sare ' qui 
was served:— 3 'twas captured, as our host th f l^^bl^t t 
kept telling us, when gentle south winds ^ffS^of 1 ^ 
blew; around the table were placed turnips, ** f^h^arSar de- 
lettuces, and radishes, and all that stimulates ifF^f^lli^tZ^ 

7? an instance 01 bad taste. 

the failing appetite, as 4 parsnios, fish-brine, , ™* hoar A was reall y 

oil r ■ sr 1 7 tainted, and was served 

lees of Coan wine. When this course had u p ^ the ™ mero , u . s 

vegetables and condi- 

been cleared away, and when one slave in m l nt T s t0 co »ceai the fact. 

J 7 4 It was bad taste to 

5 shortest tunic clad had wiped the table, bring these on so early. 

x * 5 It was bad taste for 

though made but of 6 maple-wood, with purple the sla y es to have su ch 

# , unusually short dresses. 

woollen duster, with the nap still on, and 6 Not to have had a 

table of citron-wood, or 

when 7 another had collected all the useless one inlaid richly, showed 

Nasidienus' meanness. 

fragments left, and all that might disgust the J a slave called the 
guests, a 8 swarthy Indian comes slowly forth s There is great humour 

. . _, - . .... in the contrast between 

with Caecuban wine on a tray, and Alcon the haste and over -atten- 

. , . ^,., • • q i • •, tion shown by the slave 

with sweet Lhian wine y not mixed with who dusted the table and 
water from the sea, both slowly walking like sioVmovenfems^of the 
the Attic maids with Ceres' sacred baskets c Tt wafa token of 
on their heads. "Here," says the host, ^^"dUnX^ 
"Maecenas, if the w Alban wine or the Fa- J™7 r A£Zl 
lemian suit your taste better than those on S^^omted 
the table, we have both. ^r^JET- 

Horace. O wretched wealth ! But still, J °Na S Khenus shows his 

' meanness by only putting 

Fundanius, I long to know the names f oneItalianandoneGreek 



126 SATIRE VIII. — BOOK II. 

\vine on the table instead those who dined With VOU, when VOU Were 

of offering his guests Fa- 

lernian and Lesbian too ; treated SO * delightfully ? 

and he showed his osten- . . _ _ 

ration by mentioning his fUlldiVllUS. \\ ell, I was ID the first place Oil 

possession of what he . 

did not offer. the highest couch, and next to me * lhurmus 

i ironical. ^ Viscus was, and Varius by him. if I remember 

2 Of Thuriae, a town . . .... . . 

in Calabria— he was not right ; then on the middle couch, the top 

the "Vkd" friends of seat was filled by Servilius Balatro ; Vibidius 

°™ ce ' c , T „ was in the next, and both of them Maecenas, 

Yarius, Sat., I., v., 40. » ' 

Pronounced Semh-us. who was in the bottom seat, had brought as 

Vibidius was unknown. T - a1 r ...i i 

extra guests. L pon the top seat of the lowest 

couch was Nomentanus, then the host him- 

a Porous was like Na- self; and on the bottom seat was ^Porcius, 

sidienus, a farmer of the , .. . 

public revenues, and who made himself absurd by gulping down 

very likely toadied him. . . , ' 

whole cakes at once. But .Nomentanus 

namld thu^— ^ "^ ^ Ut ^ WaS t0 P 0Ult W ^ tn n ^ S * ^ rSt mi g er t0 

poiiex, thumb. whatever mi°;ht escape the notice of the 

index, 1 st tmger. *-" 

famosus, medius, infa- auests : for we, I mean the ordinary quests, 

mis, 2nd finger. to . ' 7 B i 

medicus, 3 rd, ring dined upon fish and game, and shell-fish 

finger. 

minimus, 4th finger. that contained in them a hidden flavour, 
far unlike the usual one ; indeed, his busi- 
ness was at once quite evident, directly he 
had handed me the entrails of a plaice and 
turbot, which I ne'er had tasted until then. 
He next informed me that the honey-apple 
i/.A, I cannot pre- was the ruddiest if gathered when the moon 

tend to his deep know- ^ 

ledge of natural truth. was on the wane. 5 What difference it makes, 

e Parody of -±.n., 11., 

670- said he, the host himself will better tell vou. 

7 Literally, the pale- ... . 

ness began to change the Hereupon Vibidius exclaimed to Balatro, If 

face of our state pur- . 

veyor. There may be we don t drink so that he feel the cost, " we 

some irony in the use of . . . 

this word "parochus." shall, as \ irgil says,"die b unavenged; and so 

8 The real reason, his . .. . - . . _ 

parsimony, is ironically he called for larger glasses. ' Pale became our 

withheld by Fundanius, • , r rir i 1 ■ n 

who suggests the reasons entertainer s face, lor he feared nothing like 
rl^pieneLa^dfu^n"^ hard drinkers, 8 and no doubt because they 






SATIRE VIII. — BOOK II. I27 

slander one too freely, or — because strong 1 ironical. 

wines quite deaden all nice sense of taste. 

Vibidius and Balatro pour into 2 glasses of 2 Cups made at a pot- 

. . tery in Allifse, a Samnite 

the largest size whole bottles at a time, and town. 

so did all the rest except the guests who were 

reclining on the lowest couch, 3 for they drank 3 Literally, did no harm 

° ^ . to the flagons. 

sparingly enough. Next was brought in a Nomentanus and 

Porcius were parasites, 

lamprey sprawling on too small a dish, and and were afraid of 

1 . . in i*i offending Nasidienus, 

served with prawns that floated m the sauce, who was himself afraid 

Then said the host, "'Twas caught when full ° 

of spawn, for had it spawned, 4 its flavour, 4 Literally, it would 

be likely to be worse 

would have been inferior. The sauce is after spawning in respect 

of its flesh. 

made of these ingredients : the oil that first 

was squeezed from the 5 Venafran press ; then . 5 i.e., from Venafrum, 

. . in Campania. The oil 

caviar made from the juices of the Spanish that ran first from the 

' press would be the best. 

6 mackerel; then wine that's five years old, 6 From Karthage in 

while it is boiling, but a wine of Italy • when 

it has boiled, the Chian wine suits better 

than all others ; then white pepper and the 

vinegar that has fermented 7 Lesbos' grape." 7 Methymna was a 

town in Lesbos. 

I first showed men the way to cook green 
colewort, and the pungent 8 elecampane, but s Elecampane was used 

^ ... , r . by eastern nations as a 

Curtillus was an CurtlllUS Was the first tO teach cordial, and rarely in 
unknown gour- medicine as a stomachic. 

mand. us how to cook sea-urchms 

with the brine upon them, as the 9 liquor that 9 The construction is 

this Shell-fish Of the Sea itself Supplies is marina remWit^echfnus 

better than the pickle that is 10 sold. Mean- KStfeifttSS 
time the u curtains hung to catch the dirt, ^ijtSSSSr. 
down from the ceiling fell with dreadful crash CU "J>* ££££ | e n f r 
upon the 12 dish, and dragged with them more ^ ngs t0 catch the 
black dust than the north wind raises in . 12 Where the P^cious 

lamprey was. 

Campania. We gathered courage when we 
found there was no danger, though we had 



128 



SATIRE VIII. — BOOK II. 



expected that the house itself would fall. 
cane N d a Rufur s ™* *° Then l Rufiis, with his head cast down, began 
to weep, as if a son had come to an untimely 
death. What would have been the end, had 
not, with philosophic wisdom, Nomentanus 
thus restored his friend ? — u O Fortune, what 
divinity so cruel against us as thou ? What 
joy to thee 'tis ever to frustrate the plans 
of men ! " Here Varius could scarce suppress 
his laughter with a napkin stuffed well in his 
mouth. But Balatro, with cynical disdain 

2 Addressed to Nasi- at everything, kept saying, 2u Such is life," and 

so you see it is that your repute will never 

3 This is the infinitive t a lly w ith the toil you undergo. — 3 To think 

of indignation, as in ba- J . 

tire ix. of the ist book, that you should be distressed and tortured 

line 72, " Huncine solem J 

tam nigrum surrexe with all sorts of anxious cares, that I may be 

mihi ! " Under cover of 

th.s pretended consoia- magnificently entertained, that no burnt 

tion, there lurks an 

ironical enumeration of bread, or badly seasoned sauce may be served 

most of Nasidienus' mis- . .., . , . . 

takes. up ; to see that all the slaves are trim and 

neatly dressed to wait on us ! — Include, 
besides, the possible mischance of hangings 
falling down, as but just now; the chance, 

4 So in "Mistakes of a too, that some 4 groom called in to wait 

Night" a groom waits at . 

table. Nasidienus tried should slip and break a dish, but yet mis- 
of servants by calling in fortune will bring forth to view the talents of 

even the groom, who, . r i -n i 

awkwardly attempting to a host as of a general, as will success conceal 

clear away the curtains, , T XT • i< ,, A r 

catches his foot in them, the same. In answer Nasidienus says, May 

maling^he'eviuvorse^' heaven grant you all the blessings you may 

ask ! You are so kind a man, so courteous 

5 The guests put on a pr Ue st !" and then he for his 5 slippers calls 

their suppers when they ° L l 

left the " triclinium." anc [ r i ses to go out. Then on each couch 

.sasidienus meant to go ° 

and see if he could not y 0U might observe the whisper buzzing se- 

repair his disasters. . . 

cretly in this, and now in that guest's ear. 



SATIRE VIII. — BOOK II. 1 29 

Horace. I'd rather see what you describe 
than any public games ; but tell me, prithee, 
what you next laughed at. 

Fundanius. Well, while Vibidius says to 
the slaves — " Are the decanters broken too, 
as wine is not brought when I ask ? " — 
and whilst we laughed 'at some pretended } Really at the actual 

• 1 t-» it oi mishaps. 

joke, with Balatro to help us, 'thou, great 2 The vocative is used 

-._.,. ,. , -ii m parody of the epic 

Nasidienus didst return, with brow quite style. 
changed, like one who meant to rectify mis- 
chances by his skill ; then followed slaves 
who bore in a large dish, in which our 3 pulse 3 The Romans' national 

id » t i iii f°°d was pulse or pottage 

is mostly served, a 4 crane s dismembered body anciently, and Nasidie- 

. tttt-tt , • i 1 t ii nus had been obliged to 

sprinkled thickly o er with salt and meal ; the use this dish, which was 

,. r ■, • r . t 1 not the usual kind of one, 

liver of a white 5 goose, not a gander, mind, because he had no other. 

r j ' ^ r. 1 ?iijj. 4 Th e stork was prized 

fed on rich figs ; hares shoulders too, torn more than the crane. 

off as though much sweeter so, than if one fo f e gSX ,,hke ' pate de 

•ate them with the loins ; we then saw black- ^i^LSST^S 

birds served up with the breast absurdly wa 6 s t !^^. nt is he ^ e old 

burnt, and pigeons robbed of the best part ; £$3^7" C ° nfer 

all nice enough, had 7 but the host not kept 7 Bad taste again. 

on telling us the reason for their being thus 

prepared, and all their qualities, and him we 

fled away from, taking vengeance in this way, 

I mean by tasting nought at all, as though 

some witch, more venomous than Moorish , vide Sat., i., 3, for 

Canidia. 

snakes, had breathed upon the food. 



EPISTLE I.— BOOK I. 



Satire brands vices generally ; an epistle is addressed specially to one, 
and peculiarly tinged by the character of the one to whom it is addressed. 



This Epistle, addressed to Maecenas, contains the poet's excuse for 
having written nothing for three years, that is, since the publication of the 
Third Book of Odes. It advises calm philosophy, in preference to indis- 
criminate pursuit of honours, or attention to the great. 



Dear Patron, subject of my first attempts, 
fit subject for my last, you're trying to enlist 
me in my former training school, though I've 
already been before the public quite enough, 
and been presented with the wooden sword 
that sets me free. My time of life and incli- 
nations are now changed. l Veianius, you ' a celebrated giadia- 

tor. 

know, hung up his sword close by the temple 
gate of Hercules, and now lives in the coun- 
try quite secluded, to prevent his being forced 

SO Oft tO beg the public for release, 2 d0Se 2 Literally, at the edge 
, ,«_ , ! , , , - ' of the sand in the amphi- 

by the balcony where nobles view the games, theatre. 
And I too have a monitor that often rings 
into mine ears that hear him well such words 
as these : — If wise, in time set free the aged 



*3 2 EPISTLE I. BOOK I. 

steed, lest he should stumble at the last and 
1 Mere iron y- break his wind. So now 1 1 give up writing 

verse, and all my other merry themes, and 
I am busily engaged in finding out what 
truth, what virtue is, and think of nothing 
else : — I'm storing and arranging rules to 
bring forth afterwards for action. And to 
save your possibly inquiring what the sect is, 
what the school I now attend, I tell you 
this : — I, bound to hold the dogmas of no 
one philosopher, go as a guest just where 
= The Stoics advocated occasion takes me. With the 2 Stoics, I take 

to npuKjiKov, a busy and 7 

energetic life The Epi- p ar t i n state affairs, and plunge in politics' 

cureans to XaOeXv /3<w- L ' r to L 

aavra, a life of retire- uncertain sea, true virtue's guardian and stern 

ment and philosophy. ° 

champion ; sometimes I fall again insensibly 
3 See p - I95> E P- xvii - into the rules that 3 Aristippus held, and try to 
pass a philosophic life uninfluenced by circum- 
stance. Just as the night seems long to those 
whose mistress fails to come, the day to 
those who work for hire ; and as the year is 
tedious to minors, whom strict guardianship 
of mothers keeps in check, so all the time 
goes slowly and unpleasantly to me, that 
stays my hopes and plan of strenuously 
working out some philosophic truths that 
benefit the poor as well as rich, and will do 
harm to young and old alike unless attended 
to. It then remains for me to guide and to 
console myself with these plain truths. Sup- 
pose one cannot vie with others in keen 
sight, as Lynceus could, yet still, if sore- 
eyed, one would not for that reject the use 
of salve, nor, if one have no hope of gaining 



EPISTLE I. — BOOK I. I33 

the unconquered ^lycon's strength, would 1 An athlete of the day. 
one refuse to guard one's body from the gout 
that swells the hands with nodes. One may 
make progress to a small extent, if one may 
not make more. 

Suppose one's breast be fevered with the 
miser's greed of gain, and with a wretched 
wish for more ; — well, there are words and 
charms by which one may assuage these 
perturbations, and may free one's self from 
most of the disease of mind. Suppose you be 
purled up with love of praise; then there's 
a well-known remedy that will be able to 
restore you, if you thrice read o'er a little 
work with guileless heart. Though jealous, 
passionate, or idle, fond of wine or women, 
still none are so savage that they can't be- 
come more civilized, if they but lend a ready 
ear to teaching. It is virtue to shun vice, 
and the first step to wisdom is to give up 
folly. You observe with what great toil of 
mind and body you avoid what you think 
the worst ills, — I mean small fortune, and want 
of success in hunting after place; just like 
an active trader you sail swiftly to remotest 
lands, in trying to shun poverty o'er sea, o'er 
rock, through flames, — and won't you learn 
and listen, and put faith in better men, to 
save your caring for that which you foolishly 
admire and long to gain? Pray, who that boxes 
in our villages and streets would not think 
much of being victor at the great Olympic 
games, if he had but the hope of gaining 



134 EPISTLE I. BOOK I. 

without toil possession of the victors palm 

so dear ? Yet silver is not worth so much 

as gold ; so, then, gold is not worth so much 

The repetition of rives as virtue. Good citizens, attend ; first money 

serves to draw their ... 

attention. must be gamed, then virtue after wealth : the 

1 = our Stock Ex- whole l Exchange from one end to the other 

change- . , ° 

rings with words like these ; both young and 
old, with satchel and with slate upon the left 
arm hung, recite these words by heart. Per- 
chance you've spirit and morality, — nay, elo- 
quence and credit too ; yet fifty, or say sixty 
3 4o-,ooo sesterces = pounds are wanting to the 2 sum the knights 
must have; if so, no fourteen ranks for you. 
And yet the boys say in their sport, "You'll be 
a king if you shall play the game aright;" and 
so let moral right be your strong bulwark of 
defence : — I mean, to be not conscience- 
stricken, nor grow pale with any crime. 
Pray tell me which is better, Otho's law or 
this verse that the boys recite, which gives a 
kingdom to all those who play the game 

3 Marcus Curius Den- aright, a verse sung by the 3 Curii and the 

tatus conquered the Sa- ,*..,-., , . . 

bines, and Pyrrhus, and Camilh e en when men ? Does he advise 

Marcus Furius Camillus . , „_ . . . . 

conquered the Gauls, you better who says, "Wealth, get wealth, 

Virtue, not wealth, was , . , , -r ' -r i i 

their aim. by right means if you can, if not get wealth 

by any means you can," that as a knight, 
forsooth, you may enjoy a nearer 

. . . By sitting in 

4 A poor poet of the view of PupiUS affecting poetry; the fourteen 
day, J reserved rows. 

or he, who, ever by your side, 
exhorts and trains you to resist proud for- 
tune's frowns with fearless and undaunted 
mind? But if the Roman public possibly 
should ask me why I do not hold the 



EPISTLE I. — BOOK I. 135 

same ideas as I lounge in the colonnades 
they do, or why I do not follow or avoid the 
objects of their choice or their aversion, I'll 
relate the answer that the wary fox once 
made to the sick lion, " 'Tis the footprints 
turning to your cave, and none away from it, 
that frighten me." 1 You people have as many • Another form of the 

. . . proverb, " quot homines, 

tastes as heads the hydra had. For what or tot sentential" 
whom, pray, shall I imitate ? Some men delight 
to farm the public revenues, while some hunt 
after greedy widows by presenting them with 
pastry or with fruit, or try to catch old 
men to shut up in preserves, like fish in ponds. 
Again, the property of many grows by secret 
usury. But granted that men follow different 
pursuits ; yet can the same men keep their 
fancy for a single moment ? No. Suppose 
a rich man shall have said, " No bay in all 
the world outshines delightful Baiae ;" then a watering-place in 
the lake and sea find out the eagerness shown ampania 
by the rich proprietor's unfinished plans; 
and if his inconsistent whim has prompted 
him with omens, as it were, he'll say, " To- 
morrow, workmen, 2 take your tools on to 2 The future is often 

-i-i P" 1 - ^ or f ^ e imperative. 

I eanum. Or suppose the marriage couch inland town of Cam- 
be spread within his halls ; he says that nought The inconsistency is 
excels, that nought is better than a single q^itdngTseLide p l"cI 

!•/• 1 . -r •, v it -1 * for an inland one without 

life; but if it be not spread, he swears that reason. 

married men alone are blest. With what 

chains can I hold fast bound this Proteus, a sea-god who had 

the power of changing 

ever changing, as he does, his form ? But his form. 

how do poor men act ? Oh, laugh at them; 

they change their garrets, Mining-rooms, their 3 Triclinia. 



136 EPISTLE I. — BOOK I. 

baths and barbers, and are just as seasick in 
the boat they've hired as is the rich man whom 
a larger vessel with three banks of oars con- 
veys. You laugh at me suppose I meet you 
with unevenly cut hair, or if, as possibly may 
be, I wear a worn-out jersey 'neath a shirt quite 
new, or if my coat hang down more upon one 
side than the other, still you laugh ; and what, 
pray, do you do, when all my thoughts are 
inconsistent, when they spurn what once they 
tried to gain, then try to get again what just 
now they gave up, are tossed about, at 
variance with the whole rule of life ; pull 
down, build up, change square for round ? 
You only think me mad as most men are ; 
and do not laugh at me, nor think I need a 
doctor or a guardian chosen by the magis- 
trate, although you are protector of my in- 
terests, — and feel disgust at the most * trifling 
want of taste shown by a friend whose wel- 
fare is bound up with yours, who centres all 
his hopes in you. In tine, philosophers are 
but one step below the gods, they're rich 
and free, raised to high office, fair in mind 
1 He was called' 'The (if not in form), Supreme as Persia's king, 
The word'"sanus"re- and gifted with especially good health of 

fers not only to bodily , , , . , , • j j i 

health, but to the stoics' body and mind too, unless, indeed, when 
pnnos f oph a er? P ^n e contra e - they're afflicted with bad colds. 

distinction to all others 

who were "insam." * Literally, on account of a badly pared nail. 



EPISTLE II.— BOOK I. 

Horace reads Homer again ; writes to Lollius, a friend, and gives him 
the opinions suggested by the perusal. 



While, Lollius, you, eldest of your father's 

sons, are learning rhetoric at Rome, I've 

read once more within Praeneste's walls ■ the a town in Latium, now 

author of the Trojan war, who tells in clearer i Homer. 

and in better terms than 2 Crantor or *Chry- a a follower of Plato. 

i . • • . j -i • •, 3 The great defender 

sippus what is virtue, and what vice, — what f the Stotc tenets, 
is expedience, and what its opposite. Now. 
if you've no engagement, listen to the reason 
for my thinking thus : — The 4 story in which ± Iliad. 
Greece is said because of Paris' love to have 
engaged in a protracted strife with Phrygia, 
contains a history of foolish kings' fierce pas- 
sions, and their nations' too. °Antenor votes . 5 one of the most pm- 
that they should rid themselves of the chief 
6 cause of war. And what does Paris do? He 6 /.*j by restoring 

Helen. 

vows he can't submit to force, although it be 
to reign in safety, and live happily. Then 
Nestor hastens anxiously to calm the strife 
'twixt Agamemnon and Achilles ; love in- 
flames the first, and anger both alike, and so 



138 EPISTLE II. — BOOK I. 

the subjects suffer for the foolish errors of 
their kings. Then deeds of crime were done 
outside the walls of Troy, and inside too by 
mutiny, by treachery, by guilt, by lust, by 
rage. Next in the Odyssey he shows us in 
Ulysses a most excellent example of the 
power of virtue and philosophy, who, after 
taking Troy, much travelled as he was, exa- 
mined many nations' towns and character, 
and suffered many hardships in attempts to 
gain a safe return both for himself and crew, 
and could not be o'erwhelmed by rough mis- 
fortune's sea. You know the story of the 

1 See Odyssey, k. 230. ' Sirens' strains and Circe's magic cups, which 

had he, with his crew by folly blinded and 
desire, once drunk, he would have been de- 
based and brutish 'neath a meretricious mis- 
tress' rule, and would have passed his life 
changed into filthy dog or sow that wallows 
in the mire. We then, as we do act, are but 
mere ciphers, born but to consume earth's 
fruits, like suitors of Penelope, true profli- 

2 King of Phaeacia, or gates; like subjects of -Alcinoiis, who thought 

Corcyra, now Corfu. _ . ...... .. . 

too much about high living, and who 
deemed it a fine thing to sleep till noon each 
day that came, and lull their cares to rest by 
the melodious lute. When robbers rise at 
night to murder men, pray won't you wake 
up from this lethargy to save your life ? And 
yet, though you shall care not to take exer- 
cise in health, you'll have to take much more 
when dropsy has set in ; and should you not 
call for a book and light before daybreak, 






EPISTLE II. — BOOK I. 1 39 

or fail to give your energies to creditable 
business and pursuits, you'll be distressed by 
envy or by love. For why, pray, do you 
hasten to remove what hurts the eyes, while, 
if aught gnaw the mind, you put off treating 
that for some long time ? The man who has 
1 begun has finished half the work. Then 1 Weil begun is half 

it i • t-. done. 

have the courage to be wise. Begin at once. 
Men who defer the time for living a good 
life wait like the clown until the river rolls 
its floods away. But it rolls gliding on for aye, 
and will glide on. Yet possibly wealth is the 
object of their search, or else a wife prolific 
in childbearing, or wild woods are peace- 
fully reclaimed by tillage and the plough. 
Let those who have enough wish for nought 
more; no house, no farm, no stores of pre- 
cious metals, draw the fever from the sick 
possessor's frame, nor troubles from his heart. 
The owner must be well and strong if he 
mean to enjoy the wealth he has amassed. 
A mansion or estate gives but such pleasure 
to the man who longs for more, or dreads to 
lose what he has gained, as pictures give to 
blear-eyed men, hot fomentations to those 
suffering from gout; the strains of lutes to 
ears in pain from gathered filth. Unless the 
vessel should be clean, whate'er one may 
pour into it turns sour. Shun pleasure ; plea- 
sure bought by suffering is really pain. The 
miser ever is in want ; put some fixed limits 
to your wish. The envious grow lean with 
jealousy as they behold their neighbours' 



14° EPISTLE II. BOOK I; 

Phaiaris, Agathocies, rich possessions : nay, Sicilian despots found 

and perhaps the Dio- . 

nysii. no greater torture than this envy. All who 

fail to check their rage will wish undone 
what sense of wrong and passion urged them 
on to do, while they try hurriedly to get 
revenge by force for their unsated hate. 
Rage is brief madness ; so, then, rule your 
mind, for it is or the slave or lord; restrain 
this mind with bridle and with chain. The 
trainers teach the horse while tractable with 
unformed neck to go the road the rider 
guides it on ; and so the hound hunts in the 
woods e'er since he barked at the stag's skin 
hung in the court. And so do you, while 
young, drink in with breast still pure instruc- 
tion's words : for long, you know, the cask 
will keep the flavour that it once, while fresh, 
was tainted with. But if you lag behind, or 
press on eagerly in front, I tell you this, — " I 
do not wait for loiterers, nor try to get before 
the rest." 



EPISTLE III.— BOOK I. 



This Epistle is addressed to Julius Florus, a friend, who had gone with 
Tiberius to Asia Minor. The poet asks him about Tiberius, about their 
mutual friends, and about Florus himself, encourages him to study philo- 
sophy, and to make friends with Munatius. 



Dear Florus, I should like to know in what 
tract of the earth Tiberius, Augustus' step-son, 
serves. Does Thrace or Hebrus' stream, 
hard bound with icy chain, or does the 
Hellespont that flows between the towers of 
Sestos and Abydos, or do Asia's fertile plains 
and hills detain you ? Pray, what composi- 
tion is that zealous band of youths engaged it was customary for a 

_ ™. . _ . ill i retinue of noble youths 

upon? I his, too, I lam would know: who to accompany state off- 
takes upon himself to tell in history the " 
exploits of Augustus ? Who is now trans- 
mitting to some distant age the story of the 
wars he waged, and peaces that he made ? 
What's l Titius composing, soon to be the i a consul who tried 

,-■ r -n ~i i 1 i -n to translate Pindar into 

theme of Roman tongues ? — who boldly Latin, 
drank from the Pindaric spring, and dared 
to disregard the stores and sources all can 
use alike. How is he ? How does he 



I4 2 EPISTLE III. BOOK I. 

remember me ? With happy inspiration is 
he trying to adapt the measures of the 

i pindar - Theban *bard to Latin lyric verse, or does 

he storm and rave with turgid style in 

Cdsus Aibinovanus, tragedy ? And how is Celsus, who has been 

the secretary of Tiberius. . . 

advised by me, and still must be advised to 
seek resources of his own, and not to pla- 
giarize from all those works that once have 
i. e , been received passed the Palatine Apollo's temple doors, 

into the public library. x . 

lest like a miserable crow he should be 
ridiculed, and stripped of all his borrowed 
plumes, if possibly the flock of birds should 
come to claim their feathers once again? 
What style do you yourself attempt ? What 
kind of poetry do you now hover busily 
about like bees round thyme ? No mean, or 
rough, or wildly untrained genius is yours ; 
nay, whether you now whet your eloquence 
for pleading, or prepare to be a chamber 
barrister, or are composing charming songs in 
praise of love or wine, you'll gain the first prize 
that the victor's ivy crown can give. But 

Money and ambition, if you could abandon that which checks all 
generous thought, and feeds the care you 
feel, you then would go where heaven-born 
wisdom leads. Let us, both high and low, 
extend this work of wisdom in our acts and 
thoughts, if we desire to live both valued by 
our country, and approved of by ourselves. 
You also ought to tell me this in answer, — 

2 Son of Lucius Muna- whether 2 Plancus' son be loved by you as 

tius Plancus, consul. ... , . , 

he deserves, or, like a wound th at s sewn 
unskilfully, does your new friendship try in 






EPISTLE III. BOOK I. 143 

vain to form ? and is it being sundered now ? 
But if hot blood or misconstruction of the 
facts sets you at variance like wild steeds 
with unbroken necks, I tell you this : wher- 
ever in the world you be, unworthy of you as 
it is to sunder friendship's closest bond, 
a heifer, I have vowed to slay to honour 
your return, is feeding now for sacrifice. 



EPISTLE IV.— BOOK I. 



This Epistle is addressed to Albius Tibullus, the great elegiac poet, who 
was a dear friend of Horace, and a contemporary of Horace, Ovid, and 
Propertius. 



Dear Albius, fair critic of my Satires, what 

shall I suppose you're doing now near 

Pedum, now called Pedum's town ? That you're composing 

Zagarola, was a town in J v 

Latium. something to surpass the epigrams and son- 

nets Cassius of Parma wrote ; or that in 
meditative mood you roam 'mid healthful 
groves with thoughts on all that's worthy 
of the wise and good ? Your body ne'er has 
lacked the spirit's. stirring power. For heaven 
has bestowed on you good looks and wealth, 
and knowledge how to use that wealth. 
What greater blessing could a kind nurse 
wish for her dear charge who, like yourself, 
thinks what is right, and can express his 
i Influence and repute, thoughts, to whom the blessings of depute 
and influence, and health abundantly belong, 
together with a tasteful style of living, and 
no lack of means to keep it up ? 

'Mid hopes of gain, and care of what you 
have already gained, 'mid fear of ills to 



EPISTLE IV. BOOK I. 



[ 45 



come, and angry pain at present woe, still 
think each day that dawns to be your 
last. For pleasantly will come the time that 

. _. The Romans used 

yOU Shall not expect tO live. more forcible language 

„ n , ,, it. in their J ests against 

\\ hen you shall care to laugh at me, a themselves than we do. 

r -r-« • i i j r ,i For instance, Cicero, 

pig from Epicurus herd of swine, then come in a letter to Atticus, 

i - - c , ill 'iiT* calls himself a " down- 

and visit me, now fat and sleek with living right ass," and addresses 

11 Piso as "Asine," you 

Well donkey. 



EPISTLE V.— BOOK I. 



This Epistle is addressed to Torquatus, a friend and orator, and contains 
an invitation to celebrate Augustus' approaching birthday, and advises his 
friend to enjoy life while he may. 



Archias was a cabinet- Torquatus, if you can endure to be my 

maker at Rome. . 1 , , '_ 

Literally, as a guest guest and sit down at a homely board, and 

to recline on couches , , • , r , . - * , . - . 

made by Archias. do not shrink from nothing but plain fooa, 

The use of the words , ,-, Tin 

"ciusomne" in the text, served up on common earthenware, I shall 

entire vegetable diet, to i , , -i 

intimate the plainness of expect you at my house at sunsets hour. 
lit f0 o°u d r' use'^fTh! You shall drink wine poured into cask 
«°(>me m a^ n taLe^wheD 'Taurus was made consul for the 

muuon with me to-mor- secQnd ^^ tfae g rowt h Q f y [ nts between 

i Titus statiiius Tau- Minturnae's marsh and Mount 2 Petrinus, in 

rus was consul a second ' 

time, a.u.c. 728. The 3 sinuessa's state. 

wine was six years old, 

and moderately good. if y 0U have any better, send your slave 

- Now Piedimonte. f J J 

3 in Campania, now w hh it : if not, submit to me. 

Mondragone, and the 

ruins. My hearth and household gods have long 

been bright, my furniture long cleaned to 
honour you. Away with fruitless hopes, give 

4 a Mysian rhetori- U p the race for gold, and rive up 4 Moschus' 

cian. who was accused x . . 

01 being a wizard. case ; to-morrow is Augustus' birthday and a 

festival, and is to give us licence and more 



EPISTLE V. — BOOK I. 147 

rest, and we shall be permitted, without fear 
of loss, to wile away the summer eve with 
many pleasant anecdotes. 

Why should I wish for fortune's gifts if I A " interrogative 

phrase of impatience. 

be not allowed to reap the fruits of them ? . "Quo" is the old da- 

. . ill tlve f° r " cin <" i n tne 

The man who is too sparing and too hard sense of "quorsum," and 

. .... . there is an ellipsis of 

upon himself m his heirs interest is very "optem." 

nearly mad. I will begin to drink, and J tear 1 The custom of scat- 

. , t r , j -,-, tering flowers about 

the garland from my brow, and will not during a carousal is not 

t . -, r 1 ,-, -i , -. .1 • , so much alluded to as 

shrink from being thought a rash enthusiast, the habit of tearing the 

What does not wine effect ? It shows one's ISd^ufiing'the flowers 

truest feelings, makes one's hopes seem £5?°? S^cET which 

realized, inspires the cowardly with ardour w h^ m ^thh d wfne. in 

for the fray, relieves the anxious mind of all 

its care, gives fresh accomplishments. And 

whom does not the flowing bowl make 

eloquent ? Whom does it not set free from 

care, though pressed by pinching poverty? 

I'm suited well to see to this, and suitably it's 

asked of me, and gladly will I see that 

all the coverlets be clean, and that no dirty 

dinner-napkin cause disgust, that both the 

goblet and the dish may be so bright as 

to reflect your face, that there be none to 

talk abroad of what true friends have said, 

to see that spirits quite congenial may meet 

and may sit side by side ; I will ask Butra 

and Septicius to meet you, and Sabinus, 

if an earlier engagement or a wish to dine 

with his own mistress keep him not ; and 

there is room for several extra guests, but 

overcrowded parties ne'er can be agreeable. 

Just send a line to say how many you 



I48 EPISTLE V. — BOOK I. 

would like to bring, then leave your legal 
business, get out by the private door, and so 
escape the client as he watches you within 
the entrance-room. 



EPISTLE VI.— BOOK I. 



This Epistle is addressed to a friend, Numicius, to whom the poet 
recommends a calm philosophy, freedom from superstition, and a proper 
estimate of riches. 



Numicius, a calm philosophy's about the 
one chief thing, — indeed, the only thing that 
can procure enduring happiness. 

Some men can view yon sun and stars, 
and seasons rolling by in changeless course, 
with hearts untouched by fear; and what 
think you of gold and silver, marble, pearls, 
and purple that enrich the sons of Araby 
and India : — what of the Circus with its 
shows, th' applause for the display, the digni- 
ties the people's favour brings : — pray, with 
what limits, with what feelings, looks, and 
eyes should they be viewed ? The man who 
fears reverse and poverty is quite as much 
bewildered as the one who longs for gain ; 
'tis strong emotion that distresses both, 
directly that the sight of something quite 
unlooked for terrifies them both. What 
matters it if be feel joy or grief, desire or 



15 EPISTLE VI. BOOK I. 

fear; if with dull stare he lose his powers 
of mind and body too, in stupid wonder at 
whatever he has seen that or exceeds or 
falls below what he expects to see ? 

Let, then, the wise man be called mad, 
the just unjust, if he pursue e'en virtue to 
excess. Go, then, gaze up at plate, old 
marble, and bronze statues, works of art ; 
admire the purple's hues set off by precious 
stones ; rejoice that countless eyes gaze on 
you as their orator ; industrious and early 
go to the law courts, and late go home 

Nothing was known of again, for fear some rival should get more 
from land his wife in dowry brought, than 
you from pleading, and — (what you could 
never brook,) sprung as he is from meaner 
origin than you — lest he should rather merit 
your esteem than you should his. Whate'er 
there be beneath the earth, time will bring 
forth to open day, and time will bury and 
conceal all that now seems so fair. Although 

The Appian road led Agrippa's colonnade and road of Appius 

to the villas of the rich , r ,, .,, 

in Campania. now know your lace so well, you still must 

The Roman gentlemen ^i L i L i i • i -r-> > 

frequented these resorts gO tO that last DOUme tO which Rome S 
as we do the Burlineton i 1 - i • i Tr i • 

and Rotten Row. noblest kings have gone. If pleurisy or 

•To'rned wilh^pic- Bright' s disease assail you, find some remedy 
,r the Argonautic for the comp i a i nt f course, you wish to 

live a happy life; who don't ? Well, then, 
if virtue only can give this, drop luxury, and 
see to this with moral bravery. You think 
philosophy a form of words, just as a wood 
is made of trees ; see, then, that no one 
bring his vessel home to port before yourself, 



EPISTLE VI. — BOOK I. 



15^ 



lest you should lose the profits from your 

trade with x Cibyra or with Bithynia. See 1 A large city of 

that a quarter of a million pounds be gained 

completely; add a second quarter, and a 

third, and, finally, a fourth to make the 

million up. No doubt this money that so ah this is ironical. 

rules the world gives one a dowered wife, 

gives credit, friends, and noble birth ; ay, 

handsome person, too; in fine, persuasion and 

a winning grace set off the moneyed man. 

The Cappadocian king, though rich in Ariobarzanes. 
slaves, wants money ; don't you be like him. 
Lucullus, as men say, when asked if he could a general who fought 

, , , i j j "i\i li against Mithridates, and 

lend the stage a hundred military cloaks, gained his wealth in the 
said, " How can I supply so many ? still, 
I'll look and send you all I have." Soon 
afterwards he wrote to say he had five thou- 
sand cloaks, and that the manager might The prsetor superin- 
tended the appointments 

take a part or all. of the public games. 

Poor is the house, where there's not more 
than is enough, that is not noticed by the 
owner's eye, and proves the perquisite of 
thievish slaves. 

Well, then, if wealth alone can give us ah irony. 
lasting happiness, why, be the first to take 
this work in hand, the last to give it up. If 
influence and splendour make men blest, then 
let us buy a slave to tell the names of those we a slave called the 

-.j '-l-ji j j "nomenclator," who sat 

meet and nudge us in the side he guards, and on t h e left side, and told 
make us shake hands over dirty counters with those^met.* ' 
their weights and scales, and say, " This 
man has influence among the Fabian, and 
that among the Veline tribe ; a third will 



152 EPISTLE VI. — BOOK I. 

1 The consulate. give the Victor's rods and chair of ivory to 

whomsoever he will, or will inexorably take 
the same away." Call such men " brother," 
or else " father," blandly greet them as rela- 
tions in the way that suits the age of each. 
If he who dines well, lives as men should 
live ; now day has dawned, why, let us go 
where fondness for good living calls ; yes, 
Gargiiius was a freed- let us go buy fish and meat, as once Gargilius, 
u^edtoagxee^eforehand who would give orders that his nets and 
hi ? ma S w outside Se hunting spears and slaves should in the 
back\^Lugh n idit n d g in morning be conveyed across the crowded 
hunting. market-place ; so that, forsooth, one mule from 

all the pack might bring back home a boar 
he — bought^ the public looking on meanwhile. 
Then let us bathe ere we have well 
digested food, forgetting what is right, what 

2 The inhabitants of wrong, well 2 worthy of disfranchisement ; a 

Caere, in Etruria. gained . . , ., , t^-, • r 

the freedom of the city vicious crew, like that Ulysses, prince of 
wherfRo^ewas S 5rcke e d Ithaca, once had, who thought 3 forbidden 
wire e afterw^ids* dl pleasure better than their fatherland. 
^Vhey^ killed 'Tome If, as Mimnermus thinks, nought is de- 
^S^efegiac 1 poet 111 of ^ghtful without love and merriment, why, 
Colophon. spend your life in love and merriment. 

Farewell, long life be yours \ if you know 
aught more true than what you read from 
me, sincerely tell me it ; if not, join me 
in acting on these truths. 



EPISTLE VII.— BOOK I. 



This Epistle is addressed to Maecenas, and contains a most candid excuse 
for his absence. 



Although I promised to be at my country 
house but a ! few days, I broke my word, and i "Quinque" is not to 
you've expected me throughout the whole of iated. 
August. True. Yet if you wish me to live 
really well and strong, you will, dear patron, 
grant me, now that I'm afraid of falling ill, the 
same indulgence that you grant me when I'm 
actuallyill ; while earlyfigs and the "Sirocco" 
grace the undertaker with his sable train, while 
fathers and while loving mothers all are 
anxious for their children's health, while sedu- 
lous attendance on one's patron and the busi- 
ness of the courts bring fevers on, and open 
dead men's wills. But if midwinter should 
strew snow upon the Alban hills, your poet 
will go down then to the 2 sea, and take care 2 ToVeiia or Saiemum. 
of his health ; and well wrapped up, will read 
with limbs close drawn together ; you, dear 
friend, he'll visit with 3 spring's harbinger, and 3 Literally, with the 

. ir . r . , • , zephyrs and the first 

spring itself, if you permit him to do so. swallow. 



154 EPISTLE VII. — BOOK I. 

You've not bestowed your favours upon 
The Caiabrians were me, as some hosts with rough kindness bid 

kind, but rough. . . 

their guests eat pears. Say they, " I pray 
you, eat : " you answer, " I have had 
enough." Well, take away all that you will. 
No, thank you. Yet you'll take them home 
as welcome presents to your little children. 

I am quite as much obliged as if I were 
sent off well laden with your gift. 

Well, as you will ; yet you will leave them 
here to be consumed to-day by pigs. 

The wasteful and the foolish man gives 
but what he disdains or loathes. This barren 
soil has ever and will ever for all time 
produce ungrateful men. 

But men who are both good and wise avow 
themselves quite ready to assist all who deserve 
their aid, and yet they know the difference 
between the counters that the actor and the 
gambler uses and the sterling coin. I'll show 
myself well worthy of your kindness, e'en 
commensurately with the high renown of you 
who so deserve my gratitude. But if you be 
unwilling that I quit yourself and Rome 
for any other place, then give me back my 
The infinitives in the once strong chest, ixiv dark hair growing 

text are used as accusa- . 

tives of substantives, as thicklv on my brow ; yes, give me back my 

in Persius and elsewhere. 

pleasant now of language ; give me back my 
graceful laugh, my fond lament for wanton 
Cinara's desertion over wine. 
i Natural history is It happened once that a lean ! fox had 
111 crept through some small chink into a bin of 
corn, and after feeding, when its body was 



EPISTLE VII. — BOOK I. 155 

now full of food, tried vainly to get out 

again. And to this fox, the weasel, not far 

off, said this : When lean go to that narrow 

hole which lean you first went through. If I 

should be convicted by this simile I give up 

all, for I don't praise the Simple country * Literally, the sleep 

life when filled with rich and dainty food, Fat birds," such as 

j T , .j , r ,, geese, turkeys, grouse. 

nor do I change my independent ease for all 

the wealth of Araby. You've often praised 

my modesty; you have been called by me 

when with you, " king " and " father," and 

the same although away ; test me and see if 

I can gladly part with all you gave. Telema- 

chus, the son of him who bore so much, said Ulysses. 

aptly, " Ithaca is not a place that suits the 

horse, for it lacks spacious champaigns, and 

does not grow grass abundantly ; " so, Mene- 

laus, I will leave your gifts to you, whom they 

suit better than they suit myself. The humble, 

humble fortune suits; no longer queenly Rome 

gives me delight, but Tibur with its quiet 
streets, or e'en Tarentum's tranquil town. 

As 2 Philip once, an energetic and a stout 2 Lucius Marcus Phi- 
antagonist, and famous too for pleading 698 P . US ' consu1, A,u,c * 
cases, came back from his business home at 
two o'clock, and, now in years, complained 
that 3 the law courts were too far from Carinas ; 
as they say, he spied some man fresh shaven 3As we might say 
in a banker's shop, and with a penknife far VromThe**ourts *at 
cleaning his nails quietly. Said Philip to carTn^was a fashion- 
his slave— a slave who would with smart ^thfte^^L^S 
despatch do what his master bade,—" Deme- Rome resided * 
trius, away, find out, and bring word from 



156 EPISTLE VII. — BOOK I. 

what country he is come, what is his cha- 
racter and rank, and parentage and interest." 
He goes, comes back and tells his master 
that he is an auctioneer, by name Volteius 
Mena, of small property but blameless cha- 
racter, known by his class, fond of hard 
work in season, and then rest; of gaining 
money and then spending it ; fond of the 
company of a few friends in humble station 
like himself; of a fixed home and married 
life ; the public games and Plain of Mars 
when business was all done. 

I fain would ask the man himself about 
all this you tell me ; bid him come to dine 
with me. This, Mena really scarcely could 
believe, but mused in secret wonderment ; in 
short, his answer was, " I'm much obliged, 
but cannot come.' 7 

Is't possible that he refuses me? He 

both refuses obstinately and or cares nought 

for or dreads your company. But in the 

morning Philip lights upon Volteius selling 

1 Sans culottes ; the to the Y coatless common people broken stuff, 

poor class wore no toga. , . , - 

and is the first to say, " How do you do ? " 
He then begins to make his hard work, and 
the ties of trade, excuses for not having 
called at Philip's house next day, in short, 
for failing to perceive and greet him first. 

Consider that I pardon you (said Philip), on 
condition that you dine with me to-day. 

Well, as you will. 

Then come at half-past three ; now go, and 
zealously pursue your trade. 



EPISTLE VII. BOOK I. 157 

When he had come to dinner, and had 
talked of anything that chanced to come into 
his head, he had at last to be informed that it 
was time to go off home to sleep. When, now 
a regular attendant on his patron in the morn- 
ing, and a constant guest, he had been often 
seen to hurry down to Philip's house as fish will 
dart at hook concealed by bait • he then was 
bid to go with him out to his Country seat near i in the Sabine tem- 
Rorae, because the Latin holidays had been The "Ferii Latinae" 

, . , ~ , . , , were a moveable festival 

proclaimed. Once seated in a mule-car, he proclaimed at the piea- 

t_ • . , i p, t • sure of the consul. 

bestows incessant praise upon the Sabine 
land and clime. This Philip sees and 
laughs, and as he tries to find rest and 
amusement from whatever source he can, 
and gives Volteius sixty pounds, and pro- 
mises to lend him sixty more, he strongly 
urges him to buy a small estate. He buys 
it, and to cut the story short, instead of 
a neat townsman turns rough countryman, 
and talks of nought but furrows and vine- 
yards ; prepares his elms for wedding with 
the vines, wears out his strength in business, 
and grows grey with his desire for gain. But 
when his sheep were lost by theft, his she- 
goats by the murrain \ when his crops 
deceived his hopes, his ox grew lean with 
ploughing the rough soil : — provoked by all 
this loss, ere morning broke, he seized his 
horse, and in a rage set off for Philip's 
house. And when he saw the man all dirty 
and unshorn, he said, I think, Volteius, you 
are too laborious, and keep too close at 



I58 EPISTLE VII. — BOOK I. 

work. Said he, I' faith, my patron, you 
would call me " wretched" if you cared 
to give me the right name. So, then, I pray 
you and implore you by your guardian-god, 
your friendship, and your hearth and home, 
restore me to my former life. 

Then let the man who once has seen how 
far superior is what he had to what he tried 
to gain, come back in time and take again 
the lot in life he left. 'Tis right that men 
should estimate themselves by standard and 
by rule that suits their state. 



EPISTLE VIII.— BOOK I. 

This Epistle informs a friend, Celsus Albinovanus, one of the retinue o. 
Tiberius engaged in Armenia, that Horace felt that he was not 1 iving as a 
philosopher should live, and as he had avowed that he would ; inquires 
after the health and prospects of his friend, and ends with a warning not to 
forget to bear his new honours without undue pride and elation of mind. 



Come now, my pen, invoked by me, compose 
a letter of felicitation in reply to Celsus, 
aide-de-camp and secretary to the Prince 
Tiberius. If Celsus ask what I'm about, say } The full name was 

Tiberius Claudius Nero. 

that although I make fair promises enough, 
I live not as I should, and so not as I like ; 
yet not because the hail has bruised my 
vines, or heat parched up my olives, nor be- 
cause my herds are struck by murrain in 
some distant fields, but all because, less /.<?., any part of my 

, • • i , i • i , • r body is stronger than 

sound in mind than in whatever portion of my mind. 

my frame you please, I care to listen to or 

learn nought to remove my melancholy 

state \ become offended with men who give 

me a trusty doctor's aid, grow angry with my 

2 friends for their prompt zeal in saving me 2 He compares his 

from fatal listlessness \ pursue what does me dans' art. ™ t0 P ybl ~ 

harm, shun what I know will do me good, 



and, fickle as the wind, at Rome for Tibur near Tibur. 



3 His Sabine villa was 



l6o EPISTLE VIII. BOOK I. 

long, at Tibur long for Rome. Then ask 
him how he is, how too he does his duty, and 
his business, and how he behaves ; ask also 
how he suits the Prince, and how his train. 

If he shall say, " Oh, well enough," 
felicitate him first ; then mind you slowly 

If you bear your acces- w hi S p er m n i s ear these Wamillff WOrds, " As, 

sion to fortune with mo- r c ' 

. Celsus. vou shall bear vour honours, so shall 

- pride, we shall - J 7 

we bear vou." 



EPISTLE IX.— BOOK I. 

A cautious letter of introduction given to Septimius, an acquaintance. 



Septimius, 'tis clear, Tiberius, more than all 
other men, perceives your great esteem for Slightly ironical. 
me ; for when he asks, and by his prayers 
constrains me, to attempt forsooth to praise 
and recommend him to yourself, as one well 
worthy of the high abilities and station of a 
prince who chooses but the virtuous to know ; 
and when he thinks that I stand in the place 
of a dear friend to you, he sees and knows 
what I can do far better than I do my- 
self. I did indeed urge many reasons why 
I should escape the task, and find excuse ; 
but still I feared lest men should think that 
I, wrapped up in my own interest alone, 
pretended to possess less than I do possess, 
and kept concealed the influence I really 
have. I then, in trying to avoid reproach 
for what would merit greater blame, have 
brought myself to use the licence town-bred 
confidence can give. So if you think it well 
to give up modesty in a friend's cause, why, 
write his name upon your list, and think him 
brave and true. 

L 



EPISTLE X.— BOOK I. 



This Epistle is written to Fuscus Aristius, an intimate friend and philo- 
logist, who preferred living at Rome ; and tells him of the advantages of 
country life, and exhorts him to imitate the Stoics, and live contented with 
his lot, and not court the rich, which often brings more trouble than 
advantage. 



I, who delight in country life, send my 
regards to Fuscus, who prefers the town, — 
in which one point, indeed, we are far dif- 
ferent ; though in all else, almost twin-born, 
in the words " annui- with brothers' feelings, we, like doves that 

mus pariter" there is an •. ., t j j i j ^ ^ 

idea of mutual approval, have together lived and loved, each shun 
dove a s lsot e lilingo two whate'er the other shuns, each love whate'er 
the other loves. 
i i.e., your home in You keep 1 the nest ; I sing the praises of 
the pleasant country's streams and rocks 
edged round with moss and groves. Dost 
ask the reason ? Tis because I really live 
and seem a king the moment that I've left 
that life that you extol to heaven with shouts 

Slaves were sometimes _ . . ... . . 

fed on the sacrificial of praise ; and, like a slave who runs away, 
So Horace humSoSSy " I will not have " the priest's rich food : 'tis 
SS^/m^ly^cl bread I want, that now to me is better far than 
£^r doflhe honeyed cakes of meal and cheese. If one 



EPISTLE X. — BOOK I. 1 63 

should live *as nature tells us to, and first a . x This is more in popu- 
lar than philosophical 

site on which to build a house must be language, 
looked out, know you a spot that can sur- 
pass the happy country fields ? Is there a 
place where winters are less cold, or where 
more pleasant breezes lessen both the dog- 
star's rage or Leo's influence, when once 
the piercing sun has entered on that mad- The idea is that the 

zodiacal sien Leo is mad- 
dened sign ? Is there a place where carkmg dened by the rays of the 

care less drives our sleep away? Pray, is 

the grass inferior in 2 fragrance or in beauty to 2 The Roman floors 

, , , n -^ -r» • t» ' l were sometimes strewn 

the tesselated floors ? Pray, in Rome s streets with flowers. 

1 , , , j The epithet "Libycis" 

does purer water try to burst the leaden implies that the floor was 

pipes, than that which babbling purls down Se. e ° umi ian mar " 

winding streams? No doubt, 'mid columns J^S^mi^ 

built of varied marble, trees are reared, and coIumns at Rome * 

houses too are praised that look on fields 

extended far and near. Though you drive 

Nature out by violence, still ever she'll come 

back again, and will insensibly o'ercome 

and dissipate your ill-conceived disgust. The 

man who cannot skilfully compare the fleeces 

that absorb Aquinum's dye with Sidon's Aquinum, adtyofthe 

1 "n rr j i i j 'Volsci in Latium, was ce- 

purple will not suffer more undoubted or i e brated for its imitation 

more heartfelt loss than he will who Shall °^he real Tyrian dye. 

fail to separate what's false from what is true. 
Adversity will sorely try him whom pros- 
perity has gladdened overmuch. You will 
reluctantly give up whate'er you feel great 
admiration for. Shun high estate, for by 
one's lowly life one may surpass the noble 
and his friends. 

The stag once beat the horse in fight, and 



164 EPISTLE X. — BOOK I. 

drove him from the pasturage they shared 
alike before, till, worsted in protracted strife, 
the horse implored the aid of man, and took 
the bit ; but when as a fierce conqueror he 
left his foe, he failed to shake the rider from 
his back, or bridle from his mouth : so he 
who through a fear of poverty gives up his 
freedom, which is better far than gold, is 
both intemperate and subject to restraint, 
and will for ever be a slave because he'll not 
know how to live on humble means. With 
him whom his own fortune shall not suit, 
the case is like the shoe sometimes, which 
will trip up a man, suppose it be too big, 
and pinch him if too small. So, Fuscus, 
wisely live contented with your lot, and 
don't let me escape reproof when I shall 
seem to be amassing more than I can want, 
Money should be the and never giving up (the race for gold). 

material dispensed, the .",-,.,, . , . . , . 

mind the dispenser. And doubtless, money gamed is or the lord or 
1 Metaphor, from beasts slave of those who gain; ^ore fit to follow 

led with a cord. . 

others guidance than to lead the way. 

Vacuna was supposed T j ,, • ■■ j r 

to be a Sabine goddess, I read this to my slave to copy down be- 

the same as Victoria, i • j tt > 11 • 1 • j 

and adored after harvest hind Vacuna s crumbling shrine, contented 
fvaco^ 6 glver ° f rcst with all else except your absence from myself. 



EPISTLE XI.— BOOK I. 



This Epistle is addressed to Bullatius, a friend, otherwise not much 
known. He seems to have been a rich man, the victim of ennui; which, 
in common with many others, he tried to relieve by travelling, instead of 
engaging energetically in some praiseworthy pursuit. Horace encourages 
him to live more philosophically, exhorts him to come back, and hints that 
he himself is happy where'er he be, through a contented mind, not mere 
change of place. 



Bullatius, what do you think of 1 Chios and i islands in the ^Egean. 

famed Lesbos, what of Samos with neat 

buildings, what of 2 Sardis, Croesus' royal 2 Capital of Lydia. 

home, of Smyrna, and of Colophon ? Do Ionian cities. 

they surpass or fall below what rumour says 

of them, or do they all displease, contrasted 

with our Plain of Mars and Tiber's stream? 

Pray, does some one of the Attalic towns Called so after a 

, . , _ king of the Attali. Some 

suit your desires, or do you now approve of of them were Pergamus, 
Lebedus, through mere disgust caused by the bldut s 'was y an^ionian 
sea and roads ? You know the character of m 
Lebedus, it is a hamlet more untenanted 
than Gabii, or than Fidenae ; and yet there, Gabii, a town in La- 
forgetful of my friends, and by my friends "pldena, a small Sabine 
forgot, I'd gladly watch the raging sea a little town ' 
distance from the shore. And yet a man 
who goes from Capua to Rome will not, be- On the A PP ian road. 



l66 EPISTLE XL — BOOK I. 

spattered though he be with mud and rain, 
desire to spend his life in dirty inns ; nor 
does a man who has caught cold talk loud in 
praise of bakers' ovens and hot baths, as 
though they rendered life completely happy ; 
nor, suppose fierce winds have tossed you on 
the deep, would you for that cause sell your 
vessel ere you got back home again. Fair 
/.^., he feds no more Rhodes and Mitylene have the same effect 

desire for those beautiful , .... . . 

towns than he does for on one who is content and thinks aright, as 
great-coats in the dog days, as thin military 
training-drawers in storms of snow, as bathing 
in midwinter in the Tiber's stream, or as a 
fire in August's heat. But while you can, 
and fortune smiles, at Rome praise Samos, 
Chios, Rhodes, but do not go to them. 
Take with a grateful hand whatever time 
the gods have blessed, and don't put off 
your joy for future days ; so that in what- 
soever station you have been, you may say 
that you've gladly lived : for if philosophy 
and wisdom take away our cares, and not a 
place that has a wide view of the sea, why, 
those who haste to other lands but change 
their clime and not their thoughts. A busy 
"Nos" means Romans idleness distresses us i we £ro o'er sea and 

like Hullatius, among , . 

whom Horace lived land in search of happiness. 

Yet what you seek is here at Rome, or is 
town in Italy, There at (a small town like) Ulubrae, if you but find 

Augustus was brought 

up. content. 



EPISTLE XII.— BOOK I. 

This Epistle is addressed to Marcus Iccius, who was at c nee a soldier 
and philosopher, and exhorts him to cease his complaints, for which there 
is no real cause, and to make a friend of Pompeius Grosphus, who was 
himself the poet's friend. 



If, as you should, dear Iccius, you use the 

fixed per-centage that you get from your col- A ^ g " st ^ sg e a s ^ t el arCliS 

lection of Agrippa's revenues in Sicily, it is 

impossible for gods to grant you greater 

affluence. Cease your complaints; for he's 

not poor who has the power to use whate'er 

he wants. 

If you have good digestion, with sound 
lungs and Active feet, the wealth of kings 1/.*., free from gout, 
will fail to give you greater boons. If, (as 
perhaps you do,) surrounded by abundance, 
you still temperately live on vegetable food 
and nettles, so you will keep living on, al- The ordinary nettle, 

,i j j i i • t not the sea-nettle. The 

though you suddenly became as rich as Italians, even now, in the 
Midas was; and this because wealth cannot amUender!' W leyoung 
change a nature like to yours, or else be- to ^ s ^f„ Pact" 
cause you philosophically think that virtue ^SSlS^StSi 
is superior to all besides. xt ' 

We are astonished that his neighbours' Democritus was from 
cattle ate the produce of Democritus's fields, tor of tiU atomic theory! 



1 68 EPISTLE XII. BOOK I. 

Argument :~if Demo- whilst his great mind was deep w ^ e ^ n j' 
nS tu S pro P W ert° y n ?or e "he in abstract speculation: though SSJ-gflS 
d^ y o^ P fe^ y how (we need not feel surprise), for the body. 
oT § h h t weTo r feei S a U t^ur you, 'mid that infectious greed of 
£^i£&£& gain you see, have thoughts for nothing mean, 
imtd f Tyou7t d cessa e ry and even now Y ou stud Y natural philosophy; 
business transactions and an ^ j arn k at agencies restrain the sea, what 

dry accounts ! o 

regulates the seasons ; whether by some forces 
of their own, or influence of gods, 

... , . . . Slightly iron- 

the stars roll in their orbits, or icaL 
stray from their spheres ; what makes themoon 
to wane, and then to wax again ; what purpose 
and what power this union without identity of 
all the world's great elements possesses ; and 
Empedocies was from whether Empedocles or shrewd Stertinius in 

Agrigentum, and a fol- 

lower of Pythagoras. terpret nature Wrong. But Whether Merely a hu- 

Stertinius, called iron- . morous wav of 

ically "sapientum octa- yOU be living On the SOUls, for- say i ng If you 

vus," is put to represent . ,• *' ve<reta . 

the stoics. He wrote sooth, of fish, or leek or onion, bi es w I th ° an 

sop h b y . oksofStoicphi '°" patronize Pompeius Grosphus, SrSfgrS 

and at once bestow whate'er he Empedocie s — 

that plants had 

ask i for Grosphus will make no souls - 
request that is not right and fair. And 
cheaply gained indeed are friends when good 
men want some aid. And that you may 
know how the Roman empire flourishes, I 
tell you this ; Cantabria is vanquished by 
the prowess of Agrippa, and Tiberius has by 
his valour won Armenia ; the king of Parthia 
on bended knees has owned the prince's 
sway, and golden Plenty, with her well-stored 
horn, has spread rich harvests over Italy. 



EPISTLE XIII.— BOOK I. 

Horace sends Three Books of Odes just published to Augustus, by Caius 
Vinius Asella, or Asina, who was probably a neighbour. 



As, Vinius, repeatedly and long I told you 
on your setting out, so give these rolls of 
parchment with the seal unbroken to the 
Emperor, ! if he be well, in spirits, if, in fine, i Augustus was often 

, r ' , . ' ill at that time. 

he ask for them ; lest m your zeal for me, as 
an officious agent and by over-eager efforts, 
you should err and bring my writings into 
disrepute. Suppose, as possibly may be, the 
bundle of my works seem heavy and distress 
you, rather throw it quite away than roughly 
dash it (as an ass might kick its pack away) 
down in the place to which you're told to 
carry it and turn your father's surname 
" Asina " into a jest, and so become the talk 
of all the town. Make all the haste you can 
o'er slope and stream and fen ; and when 
you've done your purposed work and have 
arrived at your road's end, then so arrange 

i j j i 1 i A certain Titinius re- 

your burden, and so keep it when arranged, presented Pyrrhia, a 
that you don't, as you might, appear to carry SSI of wool from hefmis" 
your book-parcel as a clown a lamb to market; S^ £&*"& 
or as Pyrrhia, when drunk,, the ball of stolen when ^nk movements 



EPISTLE XIII. BOOK I. 



wool ; or as a country tribesman . Rlch r me . m " 

; f bers of a tribe 

holds his slippers and his cap. would some - 

1 x L times invite 

Don't tell all those you meet what p° orer country 

' members. 

dreadful work you had in carrying The slippers 

° were worn for 

those Odes which may attract entering the 

triclinium. 

the eye and ear of great Au- The cap to 

go home in at 

gustus ; and though often begged night. 

.. ... . There were 

to tell your mission, keep straight 3 i country and 

xt j 4 city tribes, 

on your course. Now go, good- 
bye ! take care you do not trip in aught, and 
break the rules I gave. 



EPISTLE XIV.— BOOK I. 

This Epistle, addressed nominally to the bailiff or steward of his farm, 
is really intended by Horace to show his enemies, who envied him the pos- 
session of his Sabine estate, that he valued it not so much for its actual 
worth, as for the opportunity it gave him of escaping their malignity, and 
pursuing his studies without the annoyance and bustle of a city like Rome : 
it also explains to his friends why he preferred a country life. 



Come, steward of my woodland farm, that The viiicus was a slave. 
makes me my own master once again, which 
you despise, though dwelt in by five honest 
families, and wont to send five honest house- 
holders to Varia to market : — let us find out Varia was a Sabine 

, . __. ,, , town, now called V 4 co- 

wh ether I more energetically root the vices V aro. 
from my mind, or you the weeds from 
out my land, and whether Horace or his 
farm be in a better state. Though the 
affectionate concern that Lamia shows in l. JEVms Lamia, con- 
mourning for his brother snatched away by su ' A ' L ' 
death, — ay, grieving inconsolably for him, 
delays me here, still, heart and soul impel 
me to that farm, and long to burst the bar- 
riers that keep me from the open course to 
it. / say that one who lives a country life is 
blest ; you, one who lives at Rome : those 



IJ2 EPISTLE XIV. BOOK I. 

whom another's lot so suits, of course dislike 
their own. Both, foolish as they are, unfairly 
blame the undeserving place ; it is the mind 
that is at fault, that never can escape its 
As clandestine is de- thoughts. You, when a drudge at every- 

rived from clam, so me- 

diastinus is derived from body s beck and call, begged for the country 

medius ; and meschino, . . 

mesquin, from medias- in your secret prayers ; a steward now, you 
long for Rome, the plays and baths : you 
know that I'm consistent, and go with reluc- 
tance, when some business that I cannot bear 
drags me away to town. Our tastes are not 
alike, and hence we both so disagree ; for 
he who loves what I do calls delightful what 
you think a desert and waste wild, and 
hates what you think beautiful. I see : it is 
the bagnio and greasy cook-shop that now 
make you feel this deep regret for Rome, 
together with the fact that this my little nook 
will bring forth frankincense and pepper 
much more readily than grapes \ and that 
there is no inn close by, nor wanton flute- 
girl to whose droning notes you may dance 
clumsily : and that (in spite of these priva- 
tions) you have still to work the long-neg- 
lected fields with hoes \ to give the unyoked 
ox his food, and satisfy him with the leaves 
pulled off from trees ; and that e'en in your 
i a stream mentioned idler moments, if it has rained heavily, *Di- 

104. 111 m pist e xvm '' gentia has to be taught by bank and dam to 
keep its waters from the sunny mead. 

Now list, and see what stops us from 

2 Himself. agreeing on these points. 2 One whom a coat 

of finest cloth and perfumed hair becomes ; 



EPISTLE XIV. BOOK I. I 73 

one who, as you well know, won favour from 
a greedy mistress by his own unaided charms ; 
one who has quaffed the clear rich wine from 
noon till night, a humble dinner pleases now, 
and sleep hard by some stream upon the 
grass; nor does it shame one to have once 
lived freely, but to fail in giving such life up. 
There no one with his jealous eye spoils the 
advantages I have, or poisons them with dark 
hate's tooth and accusation's power. The 
neighbours smile at my unwieldy working of 
the field or mill. But you would rather 
munch your daily rations with the slaves at 
Rome, — you long intensely to be one of them. 
And yet my cunning city-overseer begrudges 
you the use of fuel, milk, and cheese, and 
garden stuff. The ox wants horse's trappings, 
and the horse would go to plough. Thus I'll 
decide ; that both the steward and the over- 
seer ply the craft they know. 



EPISTLE XV.— BOOK I. 



This Epistle is addressed to Caius Numonius Vala, a friend, to inquire 
about Velia, a town in Lucania, now called Alento ; and Salernum, in the 
Picene district, now called Salerno. The reason for this inquiry was that 
Augustus had recovered from a dangerous illness by cold bathing, and 
Antonius Musa, the court physician, had advised Horace to try it. 



The construction be- Dear Vala, it is right for you to send me 

gins with the words "par ... ... 

est tescribere," inline 25. word, and right for me to credit what you say 

of Velia's weather and Salernum's clime, 

the character of the inhabitants, and nature 

1 Antonius Musa made of the roads ) for the l court doctor says that 

his fortune and reputa- ... 

tion by treating Augustus Baiae s bath is of no use to me; and though 

with the cold water cure, . 

after Amiiius had greatly tis he who says it, yet he makes me hated 

reduced him by the oppo- , T . -1 1 i 1 r • 1 11 

site treatment. when 1 through the depth of winter take cold 

baths. And with good reason does the town 
complain that both its myrtle groves and 
vapour baths, so famed for drawing from the 
sinews the rheumatic pains that linger there, 
are now despised ; and with good reason 
does it bear a grudge against those patients 
who can bring themselves to bathe their 
Cusium, in Etruria, head and stomach in the streams of Clu- 

uras celebrated through . . . . 

Lars Porsena. sium or Gabn, and make for colder country 

haunts. My bathing-place must now be 



EPISTLE XV. — BOOK I. I 75 

changed, my horse be driven past the well- 
known roadside inns. The angry rider, 
pulling the left rein, will say this, — " Whither The left led to Saier- 

nura and Ve'.ia ; the nght 
do yOU gO ? My road lies not tO Cumse Or to Baise and Cumae. 

Baiae," — although, indeed, a horse obeys the 
bit, not words. 'Tis right too that you say 
which people are supported by the greater 
stores of corn, and if they drink from cis- 
terns, or pure water brought from ever-flowing 
wells, — for I care nought for wines that dis- 
trict can produce ; when at my country home 
I can digest and bear all sorts of food and 
drink, but when I've come down to the sea 
I want some rich and mellow wine to drive 
my cares away, to bring high hopes, and 
course both through my veins and soul, to 
give me words to recommend me to the 
girl I love in l Velia's town, with all the charm i Velia was a town in 

. i-i Lower Italy, or Lucania. 

of youth. i is right too that you say which 
district can supply more boars ; beneath the 
waters of which sea are found more fish and 
more sea-urchins; so that I may go home from 
the place, fat, and a real " bon vivant " too. The Phseadans were 

A, • -» /r i Cm. j* noted for their luxury. 

certain Maenius, when, after spending Maenius Pantoiabus, 

with great spirit all his mother and his father fZ^ut ^ofli|ate! 

left him, he began to be thought quite a wit, Jj^fg?"*™ ^ 

a merry jester, with no settled home ; who 

now would dine with this man, now with that ; 

who could not tell the difference between 

a friend or foe when hungry, and relentlessly 

got up all sorts of charges against any one 

you please, the shambles' plague and storm 

and all-devouring gulf, would swallow greed- 



I76 EPISTLE XV. — BOOK I. 

ily whate'er he had obtained. When he 
had wrung some trifling gift from those who 
patronized rascality, or were afraid of it, he'd 
dine upon a dish of tripe or else bad lamb, 
and eat enough to feed three bears ; so that 
Bestius was a bad- forsooth, like old fault-finder Bestius, he 

tempered old miser, who . , . ,, ,, , , .-- , , , , 

loudly reviled the profli- might well say that spendthrifts should be 
branded on the belly with a red-hot metal 
plate. Besides, when he had quite consumed 
whatever richer plunder he had gained, he'd 
say, " F faith, I'm not surprised at all who 
waste their goods in gluttony, for there's 
nought better than a well-fed thrush, nought 
finer than a large sow's paunch." 

Well, really, I'm like him ; for I commend 
a safe and humble state when I lack means 
for better things, and readily put up with what 
you please 'mid common fare ; but when it is 
my luck to gain some better and some richer 
food, I then declare that ye alone are wise, 
alone know how to live, whose landed pro- 
perty is seen in your trim country seats. 



EPISTLE XVI.— BOOK I. 



This Epistle is addressed to Titus Quintius Crispinus, Consul, A.U.C. 745. 
The argument runs briefly thus: — I am happy, dear friend, and one of the 
chief outward causes of this happiness is my Sabine home : take care that 
you may be as happy as you deserve, and as you are said to be, by acting 
on the philosophic maxim, "Know thyself," and by keeping your mind free 
from undue passion and emotion. 



Dear Quintius, I'll write you a complete 
description of the shape and situation of the 
land, to save your asking if my farm support 
its owner by its crops of corn or olive-berries, 
mead and orchard, or by elms encircled with 
the vine. There is a chain of hills unbroken, 
save where they are parted by a shady vale : 
yet still so that the rising sun beams on the 
right side, and that, as he quits the sky with 
setting car, he warms the left. You would 
approve the mildness of the clime. What 
would you think, suppose I told you that the 
brambles bore the cherry and the plum abun- 1 Poetical traces of the 
dantly ? — that both the esculent and scarlet g0 
oak rejoiced the cattle with a rich supply of 
mast, their owner with their spreading shade ? 
You would vow that Tarentum, closer brought 

II 



oenza 



] 7^ EPISTLE XVI. — BOOK I. 

to Rome, was putting forth its leafy beauty 
here. 

1 Digentia, now Li- ■ There is a spring too (of such size) as well 
to give its name e'en to the brook that flows 

from it, since nor with purer nor with clearer 
stream does Hebrus wind round Thrace. 
Its waters can cure headache, and have other 
virtues too. And this retreat is dear to me ; 

2 i.e., can please by its nay, if vou but believe me, e'en 2 delightful in 

own merits alone. , 

itself, and keeps me well and strong through 
autumn's sickly time. 

You live as you should live, if you do not 
belie your high repute ; we all of us at Rome 
have long been proudly talking of your 
happiness, yet still I fear lest you should 
rather trust what others say of you than what 
you think yourself. I fear, too, lest you 
should suppose that any but the wise and 
good enjoy real happiness ; and lest, if but 
the people should declare that you are strong 
and well, you should conceal the hidden fever 
at meal-times, until your hands are palsied, 
and get greased with sauce and fat. AfooFs 
false shame hides sores instead of curing them. 
If any one should talk of wars by you con- 
ducted both on land and sea, and were to 
gratify your ear with words like these, — 
"May Jove, who has your interest and that 
of Rome at heart, long keep us ignorant 
whether the nation prize your safety more, 
or you the nation's ;" you could see in that 
the praise an emperor should gain : and 
when you let yourself be called both wise 



EPISTLE XVI. — BOOK I. 1 79 

and virtuous, pray, do you answer, " So 
I am"? 

" Yes, for I surely feel . delight as much 
as you in being called both good and wise." 

And yet the people who bestowed this 
honour on you but to-day, will, if they please, 
to-morrow take it back ; just as, in case 
they have conferred the consulship on some 
unworthy man, they will deprive him of the 
same : — say they, "Come, give it up, 'tis mine." 
Dejectedly I give it up, and then withdraw. 
And if the people were to cry out that I was 
a thief, vow that I was not chaste, urge that 
I killed my father with the strangling-rope, 
should I be angry at such false reproach, and 
change from pale to red, and red to pale ? The plural shows that 

, T7 , , , ,, • • -, , there were several alter- 

Whom but the vicious man, and one who nations of colour, 
needs correction, does or undeserved renown 
or false detraction terrify ? 

But who is the good man? The ! man who ^According to the peo- 
keeps the senators' decrees, the written law 
and principles of equity; by whose decision 
many an important suit is settled, by whose 
legal promise money's safe, and by whose 
evidence a cause is won. And yet the man's 
whole family and all his neighbours see that 
he is base at heart and specious with a fair 
outside. Suppose a slave should say to me, Argument : — a s'ave 
"I have not stolen aught, or run away;" I ^J^^EfS 
answer, " You're rewarded, and escape the g^ free from gross 
galling lash." Then if he say, " I've done no 

Horace probably means 

murder ; I reply, " Then you shall not be himself in ^ the epithet 

_ . r , ,, _. . r . "Sabellus," taken from 

f00(l for CrOWS Upon the CrOSS. But if he his Sabine farm. 



l8o EPISTLE XVI. — BOOK I. 

say, "Then I am good and honest;" any fair 
and truthful man like me would shake his 
head and say, " No, no : " — the wolf once 
caught fears pitfalls, hawks, the hated snare, 
and gurnet dread the hook concealed by bait ; 
but really good men hate to do what's wrong 
through love of virtue, while you will abstain 
from crime through nought but dread of 
punishment. Let there be hope that you will 
not be caught, you'll work all crimes, e'en 
sacrilege ; and when out of a thousand 

i One peck, of course, pecks of beans you steal but ! one, my 
loss, but not your crime, is less to me on 
that account. Whene'er your good man, 
whom each law court and each bench of 
magistrates regards, propitiates his gods with 
offered pig or ox, and has cried out in loud 
voice, " Father Janus, hear ! Apollo, hear ! " 
he mutters, fearful lest he should be heard, 

2 Lavemawasthegod- " o fair 2 Laverna, grant that I escape detec- 

dess of stealthy theft. ° l 

tion : grant that I may seem both just and 
pure, and throw a veil of night o'er all my 
crimes and knavery!" I don't see how the 
miser who stoops down in crossings of the 
streets to pick a penny up stuck in the 
ground is better than a slave, or aught more 
free ; for he who covets will feel fear as well ; 
and so the man who lives in fear will never, 
as I think, be free. The man who ever 
Ar-ument:— the miser hurries on, and is so trammelled in his quest 

is like a cowardly soldier, . -hi • 

who has fled, been taken of gain, will throw away his shield of truth, 

pris >ner, and become a , . . . . . 

slave; whose work is and leave his post m virtues ranks; when 

us -ful to others, but dis- •., • ■, . ,. r r 

honourable to himself, you can sell your captive, spare his life; for 



EPISTLE XVI. BOOK I. 151 

he will be a slave to some one's good ; let 
him, so hardy as he is, feed cattle and work 
at the plough ■ let him go with his master out 
to sea, and as a trader winter on the waves ; 
let him make cheap the price of grain ; help 
to import both corn and stores. But he 
who's really good and wise will dare to say, 
u O Pentheus, king of Thebes, pray what ^^ Bacchus in the 

° 7 r j Eacchse of Euripides. 

indignity will you compel me to submit to 
and endure?" "I'll take away your wealth." 
" You mean my cattle, land and fortune, furni- 
ture and plate : yes, you may take them all." 
" I'll bind you fast with manacles and fetters, 
ay, and keep you in some cruel jailer's 
power." " The god himself will set me free 
directly that I will." Methinks this is his 
meaning, — I shall die ; death is the bourne 
of all this earthly state. 



EPISTLE XVII.— BOOK I. 

This is an Epistle addressed to Scaeva, a Roman knight, in which the 
poet endeavours to show that business is preferable to inaction, and that it 
is desirable to gain the friendship of the great, although caution is needed 
in its cultivation, and, above all, an absence of servility and importunate 



Although, dear Scaeva, you want no advice, 
besides your own, and know the means by 
which one possibly may, as one should, 
behave in the society of those in higher 
rank ; yet learn w T hat thinks your dear old 
friend who still himself needs teaching, (at 
his age of forty,) — though 'tis just as if a 
blind man would fain show the way, — yet 
list and see if I say aught that you would 
care to use for your own good. If pleasant 
rest and sleep till seven o'clock delight you, 
if the dust and din of carriage wheels, or 
public-house close by annoy you, I will bid 
- A very quiet town in you go to * Ferentinum. For not to the 
rich man's lot alone falls happiness, nor has 
he lived so badly who from birth to death 
has passed unnoticed through the world. If 



EPISTLE XVII. — BOOK I. 183 

you shall care to further your friends' in- 
terests and live yourself with luxury, poor as 
you are, go to the wealthy noble. Said the 
1 Cynic, " Aristippus would not care to dwell 1 Diogenes, 
with nobles, could he dine on herbs and be 
content." Said 2 Aristippus, "If the man 8 a philosopher of Cy- 

. .. . .... rene, pupil of Socrates, 

who censures me knew how to live with and founder of the Cy- 

nobles, he would be disgusted with his 

herbs." Now tell me which of these men's 

words and actions you approve of, or since 

you are younger, listen to the reason why the 

view that Aristippus held is better; for, as 

story tells, he used to trick the Cynic's biting 

gibes like this : — " I play the jester, but 'tis 

for myself, while you are but the people's 

fool \ my plan is more correct and brilliant 

too ; I court a noble with attention, so that 

I may have a horse to ride and patron to 

support me, while you beg for worthless stuff, 

inferior to him who gives, however much you 

style yourself quite independent." Yet all 

kinds of life, position, or possessions suited 

Aristippus well, who ever tried to rise, but 

still was mostly satisfied with what he had. 

Yet, on the other hand, I shall be much 

amazed if any change of life will suit the man 

whom hard endurance clothes with ragged 

cloak with its two folds. The one will not 

wait till he get a purple dress, but clad in 

aught you please will walk through most 

frequented spots and with good taste support 

both characters. The other will avoid as 

worse than dog or snake a cloak of rich 



184 EPISTLE XVII. — BOOK I. 

Milesian wool ; nay, he will die of cold if you 
don't give him back his rags. Pray give them 
back, and let the poor fool live. To do 
great deeds in war, and show one's country- 
men the captive foe in chains, are tasks well- 
nigh divine, and aim at immortality. So 'tis 
no trifling merit to please nobles' taste. You 
know it is not every man who has the luck to 
1 Because of the ex- J visit Corinth's town. The man who feels no 

pensive mistresses, cheat- 
ing priests, and slaves, hopes of some success is wont to give up 

his pursuit ; and what of him who has already 

reached the goal ? Has he done what a 

man should do ? (You cannot tell.) Yet here 

or nowhere is the pith of this our argument 

One shirks the burden as too great for his 

small mind and puny frame. The other 

takes the load and bears it to the goal. Or 

virtue is an empty term, or he who makes 

the trial fairly claims the honour and reward. 

Those men who in their patron's presence 

do not tell how poor they are, will gain more 

than the one who begs ; it matters something 

whether one should modestly accept or 

rudely seize, and yet this was and is the 

2 Viz., to gain a hetter source and origin of all your 2 aims. The 

position, ir.ore influence, 

and wealth. man who says, " My sister has no dowry, my 

dear mother's very poor, my farm cannot be 
sold, and is not sure enough in yield to keep 

3 The future shows the ' . f J , ,„ 

impudence of the mendi- me, really cries out, "Give me bread. 
'4 As the raven that Another says in whining tones, " For me 

found a bit of food, - _ -i , ,. r . . . Ca 

croaked io U d and at- too "* shall be cut a slice from this your gift 

tracted others, so one . . . , , , ,, . , , . ,. 

who lowdly begs, attracts which can be shared. And yet, (as in the 
own 'enj^ymeu? 01 S lS fable,) if the 'raven could but feed and stay 



EPISTLE XVII. — BOOK I. 1 85 

its croaking, it would have more food, and 
much less bickering and jealousy. The man 
who finds fault with the rugged road — the 
bitter cold and heavy rain, — laments the 
breaking of a box or stealing of his travelling 
money when he's taken as companion to his 
patron to Brundusium or to Surren turn's Bnmdusmm, now 

, Till Brinclisi- 

pleasant tOAvn — does only reproduce the Sun-emum, now 
shrewd tricks of the courtesan, who oft 
bewails the loss of some small chain, or often 
of an anklet, torn from her, so that hence- 
forth real losses and real grief are not believed 
at all ; nor does one, if once mocked, care 
to lift up the beggar in the streets, though 
he may really have a broken leg, and though 
abundant tears flow down his cheeks, and 
though he swear by the impostor's sacred Osiris was an Egyp. 

i i ,i t-» t T! • tian goci. 

god, and say, " Believe me, I m not jesting, 
cruel people, raise the poor lame man." " Find 
one who knows you not," the neighbours 
with hoarse shouts rejoin. 



EPISTLE XVIII.— BOOK I. 

An Epistle addressed to the same Lollius to which the Second Epistle is 
addressed. It contains rules for a suitable demeanour to those above one 
in rank, and advocates the philosophy of moderation. 



Free-spoken Lollius, if I mistake you not, 
you'll take care not to look the parasite when 
you avow yourself the friend ; for as staid 
married women will be different in ways and 
life to courtesans, so will the friend be far 
removed from treacherous toadies' ways. 
There is a fault quite opposite to this, and 
almost worse, and that is clownish roughness 
coupled with disgusting want of taste, that 
tries to recommend itself by hair cropped 
close, e'en to the skin, by unclean teeth, 
in vain endeavour to be styled mere freedom 
from conventional restrictions, and called 
sterling worth. But virtue is the golden 
mean, and quite removed from great defect 
or great excess. One sort of men, too prone 
to fulsome flattery, like the buffoons who sit 
by hosts at table, so shrink at the noble's 
nod, so echo his expressions, so take up the 



EPISTLE XVIII. — BOOK I. 1 87 

words that fall haphazard from his lips, that 
one would think a boy were saying a heart- 
lesson to some harsh ! Orbilius, or that an * Orbffius piagosus 

was the schoolmaster of 

actor played the parasite in comedy. Another the day. 
quarrels ofttimes for the 2 merest trifle, and - Literally, foi a goat's 
equipped with absurd arguments as arms, 
defends what is absurd, and says, " For- 
sooth, how can it be that I should not be 
credited above the rest, and fearlessly blurt 
out whate'er I really think ? — a second life's 
not worth enough to make me hold my 
peace." But pray what is the difference 
about ? Is it to see which gladiator is more Castor and Doiichos 

, .,, , . , • r -\ tv r- • were two gladiators. 

SKilled, or is t to see if the Mmucian or 
Appian road lead one better to Brundisium ? 
Those whom expensive lust or gambling's 
reckless hazard brings to beggary, whom 
boastful pride makes dress beyond their 
means, whom restless thirst and hunger after 
gold holds fast, whom shame at poverty 
and dread of it entirely sways, a rich friend 
often much more vicious, hates and shuns, or 
if he do not hate them, orders all their life ; 
and as fond mothers wish their children 
to excel them, so he fain would that the 
friend should be more wise and virtuous than 
he is, and says what is nearly true, — " Don't 
vie with me, my wealth admits this folly, 
while you have but humble means ; a coat 
with no spare cloth becomes the prudent 
comrade, don't you ape my rank." Eutra- 
pelus would give all those he wished to harm 
rich clothes to wear, for in such case, men 



1 33 EPISTLE XVIII. — BOOK I. 

dreaming that they're blest, will form fresh 
plans and hopes, when they put on the finer 
dress ; will sleep until broad day, put off for 
some low courtesan polite attention that a 
patron needs, will borrow money at high in- 
terest, at last — will turn out gladiator, or for hire 
will drive a market gardener's horse to town. 
See that you never strive to pry into your 
patron's hidden thoughts, keep fast a secret 
trust, though plied by wine and cause for rage, 
don't praise your own pursuits, or blame 
another man's, and don't write poetry when he 
shall care to hunt. 'Twas through such differ- 
ence that erst the friendship the twin brothers, 
Zethus and Amphion felt, was sundered, till 
the lute was hushed, so hated by the harsher 
brother. For Amphion is supposed to have 
conceded to his brother's character, and so 
do you yield to the gentle sway of some 
loved noble friend, and always, when he shall 
lead out into the fields his mules all laden 
i Meieager was one of with such toils as l Meleager used to catch the 

the combatants at the ., . . . . . . , . . . . 

Caiydonian boar hunt wild boars with, together with his hounds 

the' son" of King Gu'ieus. rise and throw off the roughness of your 
Muse so impolite, that you may dine with 
him off what is very pleasant food, gained 
as it was by toil, toil such as the old Romans 
used to take, so beneficial to repute and 
health and strength, especially when you are 
strong and well, and can outrun the hound, 
or master the wild boar. Besides, there is 
not one who wields more gracefully the arms 
of manly exercise ; you know with what 



EPISTLE XVIII. — BOOK I. 



189 



acclaim from the surrounding throng you 
manage the sham fighting in the plain 
of Mars ; — in fine, when quite a boy, you 
bore hard service and a campaign in Canta- 
bria, led by a general who took down from i Augustus. 
the fanes of Parthia once captured ensigns, 
and who now reduces to the power of Rome 
whatever distant region is not yet subdued. 
And lest you should withdraw, and be away 
without just grounds, (when asked to see 
your patron, think of this,) although you are 
engaged on nought that does not suit the 
rule of life and harmonize with it, you some- 
times take light recreation On your OVVn Therefore you can have 

estate; mock forces portion out the boats ;' 
the fight at Actium is shown by means of 
slaves with you as admiral, as though real 
foes engaged ; your brother takes the other 
side ; a lake does for the Adriatic Sea ; and 
this, until swift victory crown one or other 
of you with her bays. All those who 
think that you agree with their pursuits 2 will 



2 In gladiatorial exhi- 
the people ex- 



bition 



countenance your sport with fullest meed pressed their favour by 

r . „/ . , . turning their thumbs 

of praise. I hen next, to give advice to you. downwards, and showed 

. r , jj-i-i • n their aversion bv turning 

if aught you need advisers aid, examine well them upwards. ' 
what you say of each man, and whom you 
say it to. Shun the inquisitive, for they are 
babblers too ; and those whose ears are 
curious to learn, don't keep a secret faith- 
fully ; and words once uttered fly away be- 
yond recall. And let no handsome slave 
inflame your heart with love within the 
splendid marble threshold of your august 



19° EPISTLE XVIII. — BOOK I. 

friend ; lest he who owns the handsome, pre- 
cious girl, should gratify you by some trifling 
gift, or should annoy you by tenaciously with- 
holding it. Repeatedly regard the character of 
him you recommend, lest afterwards another's 
faults bring shame upon your head. Some- 
times we are deceived, and offer to a noble's 
notice one unworthy of it, so, if you should 
be misled, give up the company of him whom 
his own errors shall keep down, so that you 
may preserve the one whose worth you really 
know, and guard the one who trusts to your 
protection if false charges should assail him ; 
and when he's carped at by all with envy's 
tooth, pray, do you see that danger will 
soon come to you? For when your neigh- 
bour's house wall is in flames, your fortunes 
are at stake, and fires will gather strength if 
left alone. To court a noble friend delights 
all those who have not tried, but those who 
have are diffident. So while your bark is on 
the open sea, take care the wind don't 
change and bear you back to port. The sad 
the cheerful hate, the merry hate the sad, the 
quick the sober, and the careless hate the 
energetic and the active ; nay, all those who 
drink rich wine from midnight hate the man 
who shirks his wine, although he swear he is 
afraid of being feverish by night. Remove 
that haughty gravity that clouds your brow. 
Full oft the really modest man looks like 
a double-dealing character, and the reserved 
like the morose. Whate'er your state, read 



EPISTLE XVIII. BOOK I. 191 

well the writings of philosophers, and talk 
with them, and find out by what means one 
may pass calmly through this life, and 
whether an insatiate desire for more dis- 
tress and harass men, or dread of losing 
life's bare necessaries ; whether virtue can 
be taught or comes instinctively ; what les- 
sens cares, what makes one satisfied in heart, 
what gives us thorough, peace of mind ; dis- 
tinction, or delightful gain, or a secluded path, 
and course of life unnoticed by the world. 
And what, pray, think you, are my thoughts, 
dear friend, what, think you, are my prayers 
whene'er ! Digentia's cool stream refreshes ! See page 52. 
me, a stream 2 Mandela's citizens drink from, 2 Now called Bardeia. 
a village that contracts one's skin with cold ? 
My thoughts and prayers are these : — " Let 
me retain what I now have, or even less, and 
so live the remainder of my life, if heaven 
grant me any further time to live ; let me 
have a good store of books, and food to last 
each year ; and let me not be tossed in 
doubts and fears about th' uncertain time to 
come ; but I need only pray to heaven as to 
blessings that it gives or takes away; let it 
give life a*nd health with means, and I myself 
will find content. 



EPISTLE XIX.— BOOK I. 



The poet shows the folly of some who would imitate, and the envy 
of others who would censure him. 



Dear Patron, so well read in Greek and 
i Cratinus was one of Latin, if you list to old ^ratinus' rules, 

the old comic writers. J 

no verses can be long in vogue or last, which 

water-drinkers write. E'er since the time 

j " Adscripsit " is a that Bacchus 2 ranked enthusiastic bards 

military term. ... ^ ~ 

among his regiments of Fauns and Satyrs, 
the sweet Muses mostly smelt of wine at 
j vide iiiad, i$ t line morn. 3 Tis proved that Homer loved good 
wine, because he praised it so. E'en Ennius, 
that founder of all poetry, ne'er started forth 
to sing of martial deeds, unless inspired by- 
wine. To those who drink no wine I'll give 
the law courts and the praetor's bench, and 
take away the gift of song from the morose. 
4"Edico" was the 4 When praetor-like I this declared, the bards 

official word the praetor , , A .. , . - . iji 

used. neer ceased to vie in drinking hard by 

night, and reeking of the wine by day. And 
pray, suppose a man should ape old Cato's 
ways by looking wildly fierce, and walking 



EPISTLE XIX. — BOOK I. 1 93 

with bare feet, and wearing coats some sorry 

weaver made ; would he show Cato's virtue 

to the life, and * Cato's character ? A tongue 1 Cato uticensis. 

that tried to emulate the rhetoric 2 Timagenes 2 Timagenes, a rheto* 

, . . q T -i rician from Alexandria, 

displayed made Codrus, from d larbas sprung, was brought captive to 
once burst: the vessels of his lungs through a iarbita, or descend- 

.,.,,, , . r , i ant of Iarbas, was the 

wishing to be thought a man of taste, and sam e as Codms, an 

striving to gain fame for eloquence. A model ncan ' 

one may copy in its faults misleads us ; why, 

if I grew pale by accident, these would-be 

bards would drink the cumin that makes thin 

the blood. O plagiarists, ye abject creatures ! 

oh, how often have your laboured efforts 

stirred my rage and ridicule ! I was the first 

to tread with steps original on ground ne'er 

trod before, I followed no one else. Those 

who rely upon themselves, like queen bees 

lead the swarm. I was the first to introduce 

to Latium th' iambic of 4 Archilochus, the 4 Native of Paros. 

first to follow both his measures and his 

spirit, not the subject that once made 

5 Lycambes hang himself. But that you give sLycambes was a 

^1 i c ' ,i i.i- Theban who promised 

me not less meed or praise, through this my his daughter to Archi- 

c r 1, • i • .i •,• lochus, and afterwards 

fear 01 altering his metre or the composition refused her, for wbich he 

of his lines, I tell you this,— that Sappho r«Ti&bSS2 

regulates her poetry so full of force, by metre hLg^ 

that Archilochus composed, as does Alcaeus ; 

but he differs in the subject-matter and 

arrangement too, nor does he pick out some 

6 Lycambes to lampoon in biting verse, nor « As Archilochus did ; 

i-,„ r 7xtt_i? i i- literally, father-in-law. 

plait a noose tor ' Neobule s neck m his 7 Literally, for a bride. 
defaming lines. Such strains as those 
Alcaeus once or Sappho sang, untold before 

N 



194 EPISTLE XIX. — BOOK I. 

by any tongue, I, as the Roman lyric bard, 
made known, and sweet it is to show the 
nobly born a style unsung before, and to be 
read by noble eyes and held in noble hands. 
Pray, would you care to know why the un- 
grateful reader praises my small works at home 
and likes them well, yet still unfairly cries them 
down abroad ? (Well, here's the cause :) I do 
not try to curry favour with the fickle crowd 
by some expensive feast, or by a gift of 
worn-out clothes ; nor do I deign, wont as I 
am to listen to or be the champion of famous 
bards, to canvass cliques of petty critics 
in their lecture chairs, — and hence their rage 
at me. Suppose I've said, — " I feel ashamed 
to read my works, which are not fit for a 
large audience to hear," — and so to give to 
trifles undue weight : the critic then replies, 
— •' You're mocking us, and keeping for 
Augustus' ear alone those works of yours. 
You trust that you alone distil poetic honey 
from your lips, delighted with yourself." 
Now I'm afraid to treat all this with cynical 
disdain, and that I be not wounded by 
the bitter malice of my foe, I cry aloud, 
" The place you choose don't suit, I beg 
a few days' grace ;" for even jest engenders 
hot dispute and rage, and rage fierce enmity 
and deadly feuds. 



EPISTLE XX.— BOOK I. 



This is a sort of epilogue to the First Book of the Epistles, in which the 
poet describes his volume as desirous of appearing in print, and foretells an 
early repentance of the desire. 



My book, you seem to gaze with wistful eyes 

at Janus' and Vertumnus , fanes, so that, no The Sosii were like 

our Mudie. 

doubt, you may be laid on shelves for sale in 

our best shops for books, made smooth by The parchment was 

. , , , , rous;h outside until 

pumice stone ; — you hate to be locked up or smoothed by pumice 

sealed, so pleasant to a modest work • — nay, s 

you complain because you're shown to few, 

and praise the general haunts of men, and 

yet you were not trained to this. Well, go 

down quickly to the place to which you long The Forum was on 

to go, but there'll be no return for you once the ^ofii'Tsho'p. as was 

issued to the world. You'll say, " Unhappy 

book, what have I done ? what did I want ? " 

when any one has injured you, and when you 

see yourself packed in some narrow space, 

and when the reader dozes and is wearied 

out ; but if the prophet err not, through a 

hatred of your folly, you'll be dear to Rome 



Ilerda 



196 EPISTLE XX. — BOOK I. 

but till the novel charm is past, and when 
you have begun to be well thumbed by 
vulgar hands, in cold neglect you'll be food 
for the lazy moths, or suffer banishment 
to Utica in Africa, or in a parcel you'll be 
Modem name for sent to Lerida in Spain. Then he who gave 
advice unheeded thus, will laugh, like him 
who in a rage thrust on a rock his miserable 
ass when obstinate ; for who would care 
to save another 'gainst his will? Besides, 
this lot awaits you, that a childish dotage 
shall steal over you, while teaching boys 
their ABC in outskirts of the town. But 
when warm summer days have gained a 
larger audience, you'll say that I, from freed- 
man-father sprung, possessed of small estate, 
tried hard to rise beyond my humble lot ; — 
and tell them this to give me merit that may 
compensate for want of birth. You'll also 
tell that I in peace and war have suited well 
the leading men at B ome, am small in frame, 
grey ere my time, fond of the sun, soon 
angry, but in such a way, that I am also soon 
appeased. Suppose, as possibly may be, 
some one should ask my age, then let him 
know that I had lived full four-and-forty 
years when Lollius took Lepidus to share 
1 The consulate. his Office in the state. 



EPISTLE I.— BOOK II. 



An Epistle to Augustus, who complained that the poet (laureate) had not 
addressed him. In this epistle Horace defends the poets of modern times 
against the absurd taste of the public, shared in, to some extent, by Augustus 
himself, for antique poems simply from their antiquity. It also contains a 
sketch of the progress of Latin poetry. 



Since you, great prince, by your unaided 
strength, have to conduct affairs so numerous 
and of such moment, guard the Roman em- 
pire by your martial skill, adorn it by your 
character, improve it by your laws, I should 
retard the national advantage were I to take 
up your time with more than a few words. 
Once Romulus and father Bacchus, Castor 
and his brother too, who, after doing deeds 
of high renown, were deified, while they re- 
claimed waste lands, and civilized the human 
race, allayed fierce war, built towns, and settled 
landed property, complained that the return 
of gratitude they hoped to gain was not com- 
mensurate with their deserts. That 1 hero who i Hentdes. 
once crushed the hydra's dreaded might, anu 
killed those monsters famed in story, in per- 



I9& EPISTLE I. — BOOK IT. 

forming toils imposed by fate, found out that 
envy was subdued but when the objects of its 
hate were dead. For those men who depress 
pursuits inferior to theirs, but dazzle by their 
splendour when alive, although when dead 
they will be loved. To you we now pay 
Clever flattery to Au- timely honour while you're with us, and build 
shrines for men to grasp as they swear by your 
'name, confessing thus that nought like you 
will e'er arise, or has arisen yet. But this 
your people, wise and just in this one point, 
I mean in their preferring you to Roman and 
Greek generals, yet estimate all else by plans 
and methods very different, and or disdain or 
hate all that they see but what is past and 
gone, and has outlived its proper age : and 
are such champions of all that's old, as to avow 
that erst upon the Alban Mount the Muses 
read out those twelve tables that forbid all 
crime, which the Decemviri proclaimed as 
law ; read out the treaties made by Tarquin, 
struck at Gabii, or framed by Romulus with 
the stern Sabines' moral race; the yearly 
Especially of the bro- chronicles of the chief priests, and ancient 

thers Marcii and Attius . r . . Tr . . 

Navius. volumes of the soothsayers. If, just because 

i Homer and Archiio- all the most ancient " works Greek poets wrote 

are also better than the rest, the Roman 

2 Literally, weighed in writers too are therefore 2 rated thus, it is no 

the same scale. ■, 

use to waste our words. 

An absurd argument ,rrr i j .1 i • • i 

advanced by logicians. Tis as absurd as the logicians argument, 

produced and nuts b ° th " There is nought hard inside an olive, so 
hard inside e a nut "xhe're" there's nothing hard outside a nut." 
!Se a „™ hing hard Conical. And so, no doubt, we're highly blest 



EPISTLE I. — BOOK II. I99 

by fortune, so we paint, and sins:, and wrestle , 3- There is nothing 

, . narJ outside an olive. 

With more Skill than Greeks, Who knOW SO Therefore there is not 

outside a nut. 

well what wrestling oil implies. If age make Reductioadabsurdum. 

. ,., . -r, i i n t Horace does not give it 

poems better, just like wine, Id gladly know mfuii as it would be well 

understood by Augustus 

now many years would stamp the poet s works and his readers, 
with value. Ought a bard who died a hundred 
years ago to be ranked with those perfect ones 
of old, or numbered with the worthless modern 
ones ? Let some fixed limit stay dispute. 

Well, then, one who has lived a hundred a 'supposed dial gist 
years is ancient and approved. says t is. 

But what of him who was a month or a year 
younger when he died, among which class 
will it be right for him to rank, — among 
the ancient bards, or those whom modern 
times, and times to come, would never own? 

Oh yes, that one you named, who's younger 
by a mere brief month, or even a whole year, 
shall fairly rank with older bards. An example of the lo- 

I take, then, this concession, and by slow ^£$™££™% 
degrees remove one year and then another, as BkfS^S^^SpSS: 
I'd pluck away the hairs from horses' tails, ^STTt^iSS^J 
till he who has recourse to calendars, and ^ accumulation of propo- 

> sitions differing slightly, 

estimates the poet's merit by his aze, and the fir< :f k of whIch , cou 4 

1 J ° 7 not well be opposed, and 

thinks nought worth attention but what death f ke rest followed almost 

° insensibly from the first. 

has consecrated, shall fall vanquished by the 
process of the falling heap. Then Ennius,* 

* Ennius professed that Homer's soul and genius 
had entered into him, and promised his countrymen 
that he would write verses as good as Homer wrote ; 
and as our critics think so highly of him, he is not at 
all nervous about the result of his boasting. 

" Pythagorea somnia" means the process of transmi- 
gration believed in by Pythagoras. 



200 EPISTLE I. — BOOK II. 

both wise and grand, indeed a second Homer 
(as our critics say), seems to feel safe about 
the issue of his boasting, and his dreamy 
theories of transmigration. 
i Naevius was a much Nay, more ; is not l Nsevius still often read, 

older and worse poet, ... .. 

though still read by every and still fresh in our memories ? He IS, SO 

one. He wrote tragedies . .. _ . . , T71 , 

and comedies. sacred are all poems of antiquity. Wheneer 

our critics hold debates about die merits of 

2 Pacuvius. son of En- each bard, 2 Pacuvius bears off the reputation 

nius's sister, wrote twelve r i-iij j •} a ■ r vv i i 

tragedies, and was eighty of a skilled, and d Accius of a sublime old man. 
IKS his ninth tragedy. 4 Afranius's Roman comedies are said to be 
oiS^t^fi^ " J ust like the Greek ones of Menander, while 
w;"s foSSe? we ' re told that Plautus hurries on to the 
had^ma/drls? of- denouement just as Epicharmus did of Sicily, 
mcedise paiiiatae were t h at 5 Statius excels in dignity, and Terence 

founded on Grecian cus- ° J 7 

toms, and had Greek more i n s ]r[\\ m The works of these men, 

dress. Afranius nourished ' 

about a. u.r 660 queenly Rome now learns by heart, and sits 

3 Gams Laecilius bta- x J J 

tius was a Gaul by birth i n crowded theatre to view: these men, 

originally a slave, and 

afterwards a friend of esteems and thinks real poets from the age 

Ennius, and a comic poet. . 

e Livius Andronicus of tragic Livius to our own times. The 

was an old tragic poet. . . . 

common people sometimes judge aright, but 
sometimes they go wrong. If they admire 
and praise the bards of old so much that 
they prefer nought else to them, compare 
nought with them, they are wrong ; if they 
believe that they composed much in too 
rough, admit they wrote much in too slovenly 
a style, they have good taste, and side with 

1 When Jove is angry . . > 

men go wrong; when me, and judge with ' heaven s countenance. 

he is propitious they go T , , . , , ., . .. - x . . 

right. I don t indeed assail the lines of Livius, or 

8 Orbilius Pupillus, a,.., , , iii 1 i-ix 

native of Beneventum, think that they should be erased, which I 

an ancient city of Sam- •• 8/-\ i -t 1 ^ - ^ ^ 

mum, now Benevento,— remember once "Orbilius, who birched so 
inTis fiftieth year. "^ much, read out for me, a little boy, to learn ; 



EPISTLE I. BOOK II. 2QI 

but I am much surprised that they think such 
lines excellent, quite free from faults and 
nearly perfect, when in all their works, if but 
a few fortuitous expressions, if a line or two 
a little neater than the rest have ta'en the eye, Emico means to shoot 

forth so as to attract at- 

this gams reception for and recommends the tention. 

. Ducit means conducts 

Whole WOrk tO the public praise. I Cannot to, or gains admittance 
, , ill! -tit for a poem to theatres, 

bear that aught should meet with blame, not &c ; where it could 

.... , r .. scarcely go without such 

since men think it coarsely or ungracefully beauties, slight as they 

composed, but merely from its modern style. 

Nor can I bear that great applause and rich 

rewards be claimed for ancient bards instead 

of sufferance. Were I to doubt if Etta's 1 A r tta "!^ ans a lame 

man, from ataaw, to limp 

comedy be a success or no, the older men °r start ' a sobriquet 

J given to Titus Qumctius 

would all cry out that shame was nowhere Atta ' who was lame - 

A play was said to be 

to be found, since I attempted to find fault successful (stare), or to 

. .-. % o « De hissed off the stage 

With pieces SUCh as dignified vEsopUS, SUCh (cadere) ; literally, move 

. across the saffron and 

as polished Roscius are wont to act, and flowers with which the 
this because they think nought right but what 2 Two celebrated tragic 

, . . , . actors of the age just 

suits their own taste, or else because they passed, Roscius was 

think it quite beneath them to adopt the ^ S o P ut was his C frTend! 

taste of younger men, and to admit when old 

that what they learnt as beardless boys is 

now but worthy of neglect. Bat he who 

praises 3 Numa's Salian strain, and fain would 3 Sung by the priests 

. , -, . -, ,-i i of Mars in solemn pro- 

seem alone to know what he, like me, knows cession, and very imper- 
ii • r • 1 • l j • 1 • fectly understood. Numa 
nothing Of, IS not a Champion lOUd in hlS introduced the sacerdotal 

praise of genius long buried in oblivion, but servTng the\nciiia,°or P Ia- 

he assails the modern works ; us moderns cred shields - 

and our works he hates maliciously. And 

yet had Greeks disliked, as much as we, 

all novelty, what work would now be old ? or 

what would national enjoyment have for all 



202 EPISTLE I.— BOOK II. 

alike to read and wear by constant use ? As 
soon as Greece (the Persian war now done) 
began to cultivate the arts, and by degrees 
fall into luxury through fortune's smiles, she 
was devoted now to training in gymnastic 
schools, now to the race, bestowed her 
patronage on men who carved in marble, 
ivory, or bronze, gazed with rapt look and 
thought upon some masterpiece of painting, 
found delight in flute-girls' piping now, and 
now in tragic actors' plays. Just as a baby- 
girl would play while under nurse's care, so 
Greece, soon cloyed, gave up the eager object 
of her search. And pray what takes our 
fancy, or excites dislike, that you'd suppose 
would never change ? This love for art both 
fav'ring peace and fortune's smiles produced. 
'Twas long our joy and custom too to rise 
betimes and open doors , explain the law to 
clients, to invest our wealth made safe by 
Literally, to invest definite receipts, to learn from old men, and 

money secured bv cor- • .-, • -i i • i ^i • 

rect names. The lender instruct the VOLlllg in meailS DV WHICH their 
had the borrower's name r , ■ j ■ j ,1 r 

written in his ledger. fortunes could increase, and the expense of 
luxury grow less. 

But now our fickle public have quite 
changed their inclinations, and are fired by 
nought but strong desire for scribbling verse. 
Young men, grave fathers, all with locks engirt 
by bay, now as they dine read o'er their lines 
for writing down. Nay, I myself, who vow that 
I don't write a line, am found to be more false 
Proverbially fa! sc than * Parthians, for, waking ere sunrise, I 
call for pen and parchment and bookchest. 



EPISTLE I. BOOK II. 203 

Though one who knows not seamanship shuns 
steering, though but those who know their 
use dare give sick men a remedy, — for as Southernwood, much 

m m . tisjd for various ailmtius. 

the proverb is, "Physicians but their art pro- 
fess, the artisan his craft alone attempts," — 
yet all alike, skilled or unskilled, write verses 
now. Still learn from these remaiks what great 
advantages this trifling error and delusion 
has. The poet's mind is not addicted much 
to greed of gain ; 'tis poetry he loves; he is 
wrapped up in that ; he smiles at loss, the 
flight of slaves, and fire ; he purposes no fraud 
against a partner or a youthful ward ; he lives 
on farinaceous food and household bread, 
although unsuited to hard service and a 
coward, still he's a good citizen. And if yon 
grant that matters of grave import can be 
furthered by more trifling ones, the poet 
shapes the unformed lisping speech of child- 
ren ; turns their ears in tender youth from 
filthy conversation ; afterwards he trains the 
heart as well by kind instruction ; he cor- 
rects rough manners, envy, rage; records all 
noble deeds; he furnishes the time to come 
with ample precedent, consoles the destitute 
and sick at heart. Whence could unmarried 
maidens and chaste boys learn how to beg 
for heaven's aid, had not the poet showia 
them how? The band of youths and girLs 
pray for assistance, and soon feel the gods* 
propitious help; they pray for rain in win- 
ning accents taught them by the bard, avert 
disease, drive off the dangers of portentous 



204 EPISTLE I. — BOOK II. 

dread, gain peace and bounteous harvests for 
the year. The gods above and gods below 
are all alike appeased by song. The swains 
of old, so stout to toil, so happy in their 
humble means, at the glad season after har- 
vest home, as they refreshed their bodies, — 
ay, and e'en their minds, that bore hard 
toil through hopes of ending it : — amid the 
partners of their toil, their children and their 
faithful wives, used to obtain good-will of 
Ceres by an offered pig, and of Silvanus by 
Fescennia was a town new milk, and of the guardian-god who ever 

of Etruria, where nuptial • -in 

songs were invented. tells us how short-lived we are, by flowers 
and wine ; and by this custom was found out 
the freedom of all rural song, which in alter- 
nate strains poured forth the raillery of 
clowns. And this free custom, gladly owned, 
each harvest-time would crack the harmless 
joke, until the jest, now biting, 'gan to 
change to rage, and with its unrestrained 
assaults t'attack the noblest families. Men 
felt the smart, when now assailed by malice' 
tooth that drew blood with its bite : when 
even those as yet unharmed were anxious for 
the general good. Besides, a law was passed, 
and penalty inflicted, to protect all men from 
being satirized ; so poets changed their style, 
compelled to praise, and thus to please, 
through fear of being beaten with a club to 
i when Corinth was death. Then captive ! Greece took captive 

roved by the Ro- , -, -, • . i j .i r 

a.u.c. 608. her rude conqueror, and introduced the fine 

arts into rustic Latium ; so the rough mea- 
sures of old times then passed awav, and 



EPISTLE I. BOOK II. 20^ 

elegance of style drove out the coarser taste, 
though still for many years, and even yet, 
some trace remains of the rough style. For 
long it was before the Roman writer turned 
his shrewd mind to the pages of Greek works, 
and when the second Punic war was done, at 
peace, then for a time began to see what worthy 
model Sophocles, or lr rhespis, or old JEschy- i Thespis was called 

-, . . _ T , . . . the " father of tragedy." 

lus could give. He next essayed his powers m 
fit translation of their works, and naturally of 
a lofty mind and full of fire, was satisfied with 
the result. For well the tragic spirit breathes 
in him, and he is happy in new turns of 
phrase or word, and yet he ignorantly thinks 
correction is disgrace, and fears its use. 
2 Tis thought that comedy is very easy to 2 The mere fact of P eo- 

, • • ,. r pie supposing it so easy 

COmpOSe, because it getS ltS SUbjeCtS OUt Of prevents their excusing 

i rr , • .« ji i what they otherwise 

general life ; yet in proportion to the less might excuse. 

excuse it has, so much the harder is the task. 

Just see how poorly 3 Plautus represents the 3 Compared with Me- 

A-, r , r t -, • Tri r nander, Diphilus, and 

role of youthful lover, niggard father, or of Phdemo. 

, . .. He shows the difficulty 

treacherous pimp. How grand, forsooth, f comedy by quoting 

a -r^ 1 . some poor delineations. 

*Dossennus is in showing up voracious para- 4 a comic writer, other- 

sites ! with what a careless air he treads the wise unknown ' 

comic stage ! for he delights in filling out his 

coffers well, quite careless after that whether 

his play be hissed or have a run. Yet those 

whom a desire for fame drives in her fickle 

car to write dramatic works, a listless audience 

dispirits, an attentive one puffs up with pride. 

So slight, so small the cause, that does depress 

or raise the mind that's eager for applause. 

But to destruction with the drama, if or praise 



2C6 EPISTLE I. — BOOK II. 

withheld so wear me out, or praise bestowed 
lExcusefor not writing conduct me home so blest, ^his often scares 

at ali, or writing so as to 

suit the vitiated taste of and stops from writing e'en th' intrepid 

tne age. L ° *■ 

bard ; I mean that the more numerous mob, 
inferior in merit and in rank, unskilled, ob- 
tuse, prepared to come to blows suppose 
the knights object, call for a bear-bait or a 
boxing-match e'en in the middle of the play; 
for this is what the populace applauds. 
Yet e'en the pleasure which our knights now 
feel is now no longer that of ear but eye, 
that gazes now on this, and now on that 
vain show. But now-a-days 'tis four whole 
Literally, is raised; for hours or more before the curtain falls, while 

the Romans had their r . 

curtain drawn down upon troops of horse, and regiments of foot, are 

the stage until the play „. , , . . , . . 

began. put to flight : then kings made captives by 

reverse, with hands tied fast behind them, 
are dragged on the stage, while Gallic cars, 
sedans, and carriages, and men of war, all 
hurry on, while iv'ry statues, and all Corinth's 
riches, are borne past. Were but Democritus 
alive, he'd laugh, suppose a creature, blending 

a giraffe. in its form the panther and the camel, dif- 

fering in kind, or rare white elephant, should 
draw the crowd's attention, nay, he'd watch 
the people much more narrowly e'en than 
the games, because he'd think they offered 
him a finer sight than any actor could : in fine, 

i Literally, he'd think he would imagine that composers 2 wasted all 

that writers were relating . . .. 

their pays to a deaf ass. their tOll in Wilting for the Stupid mOD. r OX 

pray, what power of voice can drown the noise 
with which our theatres now ring? Why, 

l A woody mountain 1 i .1 • i s^ 1 t« 

in Apulia. one would think J Garganus groves or I uscan 



EPISTLE I. — BOOK II. 20j 

sea was groaning to the blast, so great the 
din with which our plays and works of art 
and wealth from foreign lands are viewed ; 
and when the actor, decked with these, has 
stood upon the stage, the people loudly clap 
their hands. Well, has he said aught yet? 
Not he, indeed. What takes their fancy then ? 

'tis his cloak that rivals violets with its 
Tarentine dye ; and lest, as possibly you may, 
you think that I " damn with faint praise" a 
style I care not for myself, though others 
treat it well, I tell you this ; — that bard seems 

able to Achieve the greatest feats in poetry ;* "To walk on the 

, t , , lt , . r tight rope" was a pro- 

who works upon my heart by all his fictions, verb for any difficult task. 

stirs my rage and then allays it, fills my breast 

with terrors feigned as by magician's wand, 

and places me in fancy now at 2 Athens, now , 2 Th . e P lots of most 

J t dramatic works were laid 

at Thebes. Yet come and give some coun- in these places. 

tenance to those as well who rather trust a 

reader's taste than brook the proud disdain 

a public audience will show, suppose you 

care to rill 3 that library so worthy of Apollo, 3 The Palatine library 

and tO Stimulate the poets' zeal, that with ^abUshed by Augustus. 

more ardour they may go unto the M uses' 

verdant hill. Then, as the proverb runs, 4 that a i.e., to be severe 

1 may cut my vines down too, we poets oft- ^g others as well as 
times do ourselves much harm by giving 

you our books to read when full of care This ail refers to 
and wearied out ; when we feel deeply hurt ugUbtus * 
suppose some friend has dared to criticise a 
single line ; or when unasked we read again 
a passage read before ; when we complain 
that no advantage comes from all our toil, or 



208 EPISTLE I. BOOK II. 

Literally, spun out from those poems 'so exquisitely composed : 

with nice or delicate * x J L 

thread - — and when we hope that matters will result 

■ /. e., the emperor. j n this, that on the instant 2 you have learnt 
that we are writing verses, you will kindly, 
though unasked, send for us, and enrich us 
with your gifts, and bind us by our gratitude 
to write. Yet still, it is worth while to learn 
s The merit of AugiK- w hat sort of guardians of its temple the 

tus is likened to a god- ° l 

dess. And those who imperial excellence may have, so tested both 

panegyrize him are guar- * J 

dians of that goddess's i n cabinet and field, and not to be entrusted 

temple. 

* Chceriius was a poet to unworthy poets' pens. That 4 Chcerilus we 

of Iasus, a Carian town. 

read of, who for his rough, ill-formed lines, 

set down in his receipts so many coins with 

« it is said that choe- 5 Philip's royal head upon them, was thought 

rilus received a piece of . 

gold for every good line highly of by Alexander, the great king. But 

he made in Alexander's . ... 

praise. just as ink, when touched, will leave a mark 

and stain upon the hands, so, oft composers 

sully noble deeds by their imperfect lines. 

Yet that same king who lavishly bought 

« He showed more poetry so weak at such a price, G by procla- 

sense in doing that. . . 

mation ordered that no man should paint his 
portrait but Apelles, no one but Lysippus 
mould in bronze a statue to express brave 
Alexander's lineaments. But were you to 
invite that keen discrimination in inspecting 
arts, to judge of books and these our Muses' 
gifts, you'd vow that he was born in thick 
: Boeotian duiness was 7 Bceotian air. But bards whom you esteem, 

proverbial. J 

The argument is, that like Virgil and like Varius, do not disgrace 

Augustus, on the other ° 

hand, only favoured the your estimate of them : nor yet the gifts which 

best poets. ' . ' . ° 

theyve received, and which reflect great 
;£s,ooo to each was praise upon the 8 giver ; nor with greater life- 
like clearness are the features shown when 



EPISTLE I. — BOOK II. 209 

cast in bronze than are the characters and 
feelings of distinguished men by poets' works ; 
nor would I sooner write my prosy satires in 
their humble style than sing in epic verse of 
your exploits, or tell the situation of the 
lands you have subdued, their streams, the 
castles ta'en by you though placed on hills, *>. 
the foreign realms, wars ended by your skilful 
conduct through the whole world's space, and 
Rome, the dread of Parthians while you are 
Emperor, were my abilities but equal to 
my will. But neither does your majesty 
allow a feeble lay to pass, nor am I bold 
enough to try a task beyond my strength; for 
over-acted zeal does foolishly disgust the 
man it loves, especially whene'er it tries to 
recommend itself by the poetic art, for men 
learn quicker, and remember with more will- 
ingness what any one laughs at, than what 
he may approve of and respect. I care nought 
for a service that may possibly annoy me, nor 
do I desire to have my portrait painted with 
distorted features, nor be caricatured in 
some weak verse, lest I should have to blush 
when I received so coarse a gift, and lest, 
stretched out in 'open box, with him who " To show the worth. 

, . . . . •it lessness of the contents. 

penned my praise, I should be carried down 
to streets where men sell frankincense and 
unguent, grocery, and all that is wrapped up 
in worthless manuscripts. 



EPISTLE II.— BOOK II. 



The poet makes various excuses to Julius Floras, a friend of his, and 
aide-de-camp to Tiberius, for not sending him any composition, according 
to a sort of promise made when Tiberius left Rome. 



Dear Floras, trusty friend of prince Tiberius 
i Tiberius acted like l the good and famed, suppose a man, as 

* good man, and was ., . . , . , . , ,. 

a great general while pOSSlbly he might, should Wish tO Sell 3. 

slave born, say at Tibur or at Gabii, and 
were to thus negotiate with you : — This slave 
is fair and bright, and handsome too, from 

* i.e., continue to be. head to foot, and shall become and 2 be your 
property for four-and-sixty pounds ; — a home- 
born slave, well fitted to perform his owner's 
slightest wish, one too who knows a little 
Greek, and is adapted for whatever duty you 

The argument is that may please ; you'll mould him to whate'er 

Floras is no more right . 

in blaming Horace's idle- you like, as does the potter the moist clay. 

ness than one who, after - . . 

purchasing a slave with Nay, more, he 11 %\x\% a strain that s pleasant 

defects mentioned by the . . , , " . , , . - , 

dealer, brings a lawsuit as one drinks one s wine, though it lack art 

against the vendor. j i mi i n^i r 

and skill; — why, all these great professions 
make one doubt the facts, when men bestow 
excessive praise on wares they would palm of! 
On us. Suppose he further said, I'm not at all 



EPISTLE IL — BOOK II. 211 

obliged to sell; though poor, I do not owe a 
penny piece ; besides, no other dealer would 
do this for you, nor is it any one you like 
who'd get the same advantage easily from 
me; — he once failed in some trifling duty, 
and as will occur, he hid behind the stairs 
through terror of the whip that hung upon 
the wall ; — give me my price, unless his 
shirking work, that sole exception to his 
merit, cause offence : methinks in such a 
case the man would bear the price away, 
and dread no legal penalty; and say, You 
bought a slave, and knew of his defects, ! the * There is no chance 

of your succeeding in a 

verdict is as good as given for defendant ; do suit, 
you still assail him and annoy him by an un- 
just suit ? So / told you when leaving Rome 
that I was idle, had no energies for such a 
task, to save your fiercely finding fault with 
me, because no answer to your letter came. 
What good did I then gain, if still you now 
impugn the points that make for me ? Be- 
sides this, you complain that I don't keep 
my word, nor send the verses you look for. 
When once a soldier of Lucullus, wearied out, Argument, — a poet 

i •, • r i • i . i j l . in easy circumstances 

while snoring fast asleep at night, had lost sn0 u!d make poetry but 

completely the small store he had amassed by an amusemerU - 

unremitting toil, he, angry with himself and 

with the enemy, like some fierce wolf made 

keener by the tooth of hunger, as they say, 

hurled down king Mithridates' soldiers from 

a garrison, though strongly fortified, and rich 

in treasure-stores. Grown famous for that 

deed, he was adorned with medals of dis- 



312 EPISTLE II. — BOOK II, 

i £160. tinction, and received a 'sum of money too. 

It happened nearly at that time the general 
who wished to overthrow some fort, began 
with words that might have well inspired 
a coward with some spirit for the fray, to 
urge him on like this, — " Brave soldier, go 
with lucky steps where your own valour calls, 
for you will reap rich guerdon for your 
services. Ha ! pray why stand you there ?"' 
Then shrewdly, though a thorough clown, he 
said,- " he who has lost his purse will go, 
yes, he will go where you would have him 
go." So first 'twas my good fortune to be 
reared at Rome, and taught how much 
Achilles' rage once harmed the Greeks. 
Then Athens kindly gave me tastes a little 
more refined ; so that I longed to draw 
distinctions between right and wrong, and 
study truth in Academus' grove. But 
troublous times withdrew me from this 
pleasant place, and then the tide of civil 
strife bore me, though knowing nought of 
war, to fight against a foe, who was to prove 
no match for great Augustus' strength ; 
and me, the moment that Philippi's field 
dismissed me humbled, with my hopes thus 
nipped, and reft of house and farm my 
father left, dread poverty that makes one 
bold, impelled to write ; while now that I've 
enough, pray, what strong remedy shall ever 
rid me of my folly, if I don't conceive it better 
far to rest than keep on scribbling lines ? 
Besides, years, as they roll along, deprive 



EPISTLE II. BOOK II. 213 

us of each gift we have ; they've stripped 
^e of my merriment, the joys of love, of 1 He was fifty years 
feasting, and of sport ; they're trying now ° 
to wrest my art of writing from me too. 
What would you have me do ? In fine, we 
do not all admire and like the same pur- 
suits ; you take delight in lyric verse, 
another loves iambic lines, a third likes 
satires such as 2 Bion wrote, and caustic 2 A philosopher and 
wit. I almost think that even three men [££*£!** ° f The °" 
differ as they dine together, calling as they 
do, with varied taste, for food quite opposite 
in kind. What should I give you, what 
take care that I don't give ? You there 
reject that dish the other bids me bring; 
while what you ask for is beyond a doubt 
annoying and distasteful to the other two. 
Then, what is more than all I've said, do 
you suppose that I can write at Rome 'mid 
all these toils and cares ? One calls me to 
be bail, another bids me give up all my 
duties, and go hear him read his poetry, 
a third lies ill in the 3 north end of Rome, s Literally, on the 
a fourth in the 4 extremest south,— yet both Q ro n n a lheAventine. 
must be called on; a tolerable distance that, 
you see, to walk. 5 Yet still you say the streets 5 Horace s^ys thi. 
are clear, so that there is no hindrance to ony t0 refute lt 
deep thought. Not so; some builder with his 
mules and porters hurries by in eager haste ; 
the huge crane raises now a block of stone, 
and now a beam of wood ; the gloomy 
trains of mourners jostle with unwieldy 
wains ; a mad dog swiftly runs in this direc- 



2 14 EPISTLE II. BOOK II. 

tion, while in that a sow besmeared with 
" i nunc " are ironical mud goes rushing past. Go, then, and with 
poetic thought compose the tuneful lines. 
All those who write, love groves and flee 
from towns, and, as they ought to be, are 
votaries of Bacchus, who delights in sleep 
and shade. And do you wish me, 'mid this 
bustle both by night and day, to sing and 
follow in the bard's unhackneyed tread? Why, 
e'en a genius who has picked out calm 
i Only to express a Athens to dwell in, and has devoted *seven 

longer time than usual. , j ij • j- 

years to study, and grown old m reading 
books and careful thought, conies forth at 
Rome more silent than a statue, and full 
often makes the public shake their sides 
with laughter, — and amid this sea of busi- 
ness, and this stormy bustle of the town, 
should I think myself able to build rhymes 
to wake the lute's full tones? There were 
at Rome two brothers once, an orator and 
barrister, so dear that when one spoke the 
other heard what was but praise, so much so, 
that the former called the latter Gracchus, 

Gracchus was a cele- and the latter Called the former MudllS. 
brated orator; Mucins An( J ] 1QW c ] Qes t ] iat ma( J ^^ f Qr pra j se ] ess 
Scaevola, a distinguished * 

civil lawyer mentioned influence our tuneful bards? I write the 

by Cicero, Or. 1. 3. 

ode, another elegiac verse, and (as we read) 

* Literally, finished we say,— " O wondrous sight, 2 and work 

"t^com- elaborate!" Just notice first with what 

tSS^vSPSS^ P roud Iooks > with what a state] y mien we 

gaze up at Apollo's temple open to the Roman 
bard. Then, after, if, as possibly may be, 
you've time, go in with us and stand a little 



EPISTLE II. BOOK II. 215 

distance off, and hear the works read we 

both bring, and why each for himself so 

weaves the poet's crown. Like gladiators Gladiators used to 

in their Samnite dress, with slow contention, clnq^d * by Rom^ 

we ourselves sustain wounds or inflict them LtTerf fon/of, f£ 

on our foe e'en till the lights are lit. ^ c t h usuaily laste ' d tiU 

I go off home in his idea, Alcseus, and 
pray who is he in mine? Who bu^Calli- 1 a poet of Cyrene. 
machus ? Or, if he seem to wish for more, 
he then becomes 2 Mimnermus, and believes 2 a poet of Colophon. 
himself more famed because he now has 
gained the name he longed to gain. 

I bear with much to soothe the fretful 
race of bards when I compose, and, 3 cringing, 3 ironical, 
try to gain the public praise. But since 
this zeal for poetry is gone, and I am now 
myself again, Met me refuse to listen, as 4/. e , t d on ; t force me 
they read their works quite free from fear of sub^c^to^the 1 same an- 



noyances. 



rivalry from me. Composers of bad lines 
are ridiculed, 'tis true, yet they exult in 
writing, think themselves divine, and if one 
praise them not, they praise themselves un- 
asked whate'er in happy vanity they have 
composed. But he who shall desire to write 
a poem really made as it should be, will 
take th' impartial critic's judgment when he 
takes his tablets in his hands ; he'll bring 
himself to blot out from his works all words 
that shall be mean in style, shall not be 
serious enough, and shall roll on unworthy Metaphor from a mud- 
of esteem, although they may reluctantly Yhe^poet's study is 
withdraw, and linger still within the poet's shHne, r which° none^but 
sacred shrine ; he'll kindly rescue from their could enter* 



2l6 EPISTLE II. — BOOK II. 

long oblivion, and for the people's good 
bring into vogue expressive terms which, 
Cato the Cense r. though once used by men like Cato and 
Marcus Cethegus, con- Cethegus in the plain old times, unsightly 
mould and long neglect keeps hid from 
view; he will adopt new words which custom, 
the great source of language, has produced ; 
impassioned, clear, and very like a limpid 
stream, he'll pour out all his stores, and will 
enrich his country's tongue by fruitful flow 
of eloquence ; he'll prune too flowery a 
style, make smooth with his judicious taste 
what's rough ; he will erase lines that are 
spiritless ; he will look like the actor in the 
pantomime, and shift from one part to 
another as the man who dances like a 
nimble satyr now, now like the clumsy 
Cyclops moves. I'd rather seem a silly and 
unskilful writer, if my faults but give me joy, 
or pass at least unnoticed by, than know my 
" Rin S i " is used of art and be distressed by secret rage. There 

dogs who are angry, and . , ,. , 

just going to bite. was a man at Argos once, and well known 

too, who thought that he was listening to 

i i.e., when no plays some Splendid tragedies,— one who would sit 

mgrepi rented. anc | ^ a p hj s nan rl s delighted in the empty 

theatre ; yet he was one who could observe 
life's duties as he ought, a neighbour really 
kind, a courteous host, and gentle to his 
wife ; nay, one who could forgive his slaves, 
and not get in a rage about a flask of wine 
they might have tampered with, one too who 
■ Literally, who could kept himself 2 from open danger safe ; — and 

avoid a rock and open . 

weiL when he was restored by his relations aid 



EPISTLE II. — BOOK II. 21 .7 

and care, and had expelled his mental 

malady by Strongest remedies, and was him- 1 Hellebore was the 

lr • , . -, ,, T , r • -i j r - j visual cure for madness. 

self again, he said, " I faith, dear friends, 
you've killed, not saved, a man, from whom 
his pleasure and delusion so delightful has 
been wrested thus ! " 

Well, then, it surely is expedient for me to 
give up trifling and be wise, and leave for 
children play so fit for them, and cease to 
hunt for words to set to Latin lyric strains ; 
and rather learn completely both the har- 
mony and measures of real life. 

2 And hence it is, I meditate and call to mind 2 Soliloquy from here 
in silent thought reflections such as these : — t0 l e ena " 
Suppose no ample draughts of water were 
to quench your thirst, you'd tell the doctor 
of your state ; and can't you bring yourself to 
tell some one that your desires increase as 
fast as do your gains ? Suppose your wound 
would not heal up when treated by a root or 
herb shown for your use, you would indig- 
nantly reject the treatment by the root or herb 
that did no good. You had already heard 
the common people say, " Misguided folly 
quits the mind of him to whom the gods give 
wealth," and though you have become no 
wiser since you gained more gold, will you 
still cling to their false teaching? Yet if 3 Previous to the reign 

. of Servius Tuliius every- 

wealth could give you wisdom, free you from thing was sold by weight, 

. . r r r . .. and even as late as 

yOUr Wish for more, Or fear Of lOSS, yOU Well Horace's time the oid 

..... r . • r ^ 1 iii • custom was retained of 

might blush for shame if there should be, in the purchaser striking 

,. . . , , the balance with a brass 

all the world, one man more covetous than coin, ana giving the 

Tr 1 i <} !■• 1 r coin to the vendor as 

you. If what one buys in all due form pr ice. 



2l3 EPISTLE II. BOOK II. 

become one's own, still, if you credit what 

the lawyers say, prescriptive right gives 

ownership sometimes ; the land that gives 

i Orbius was a rich you food is virtually yours, *and the rich 

lan^ea propr.etor, who . J J 

said the produce of his owner's bailiff feels that you are really the 
possessor, when he harrows fields that are to 
yield their corn for you ; you pay a price, 
and get for it grapes, kids, sheep, casks of 
wine \ and surely by that means you purchase 
by degrees a piece of land that once perchance 
2 Really ^2,400. was purchased for 2 two thousand pounds or 

more ; what matters it whether your income 
be derived from money paid just lately, or in 
years gone by ? A man, who long ago 
3 Aricia.nowLaRiccia, bought land 3 in Latium, or in Etruria, has 

was in Latium. 

Vjii.nowisoiaFamese, still to dine on herbs he buys, though he 

Was in Etruria. . , . . . . . . . 

don t think he has ; nay, more, he has to 
boil hot water at the fall of chilly night with 
fuel he has bought, and yet he calls all that 
his own as far as where the poplar planted 
close by stays all quarrels among neighbours, 
by appointing unchanged boundaries ; — as 
though, forsooth, there's aught that does 
belong to one for aye, when in brief fleeting 
space by favour, or by purchase, or by force, 
or, last of all, by death, it takes fresh owners 
and falls into other hands. So, then, since 
.asting ownership belongs to none, and heir 
comes after heir as wave comes after wave, 
what is the good of owning streets and 
barns ? — What use to own Lucanian downs 
that join Calabrian, it' death, that cannot be 
begged off by bribes, mow down the high 



EPISTLE II. — BOOK II. 



•J9 



and low alike ? Some have no precious 
stones, no statues formed of marble or of 
ivory, no Tuscan statuettes, no pictures, 
plate, no vestments stained with Moorish 
purple dye, — and 1 there is one who does not * He uses "est," not 

. .... _ TT . ,. . . "sit," to show that he 

care to have all this. Why, of two brothers, means definitely the 

r , , r philosopher. 

one prefers ease, pleasure, and perfumes, 
to Herod's rich palm groves, — the other, 
wealthy, restless, keeps reclaiming wild 
woodland with fire and axe from light 
till dark, that guardian deity alone can tell 
who regulates our horoscope, and always 
is with us ; that god whose nature is like 
man's, who dies with each of us, whose looks 
will change from joy to grief. So, then, 
I will enjoy my modest competence, and 
take from it whate'er occasion shall require, 
and will not fear what thoughts my heir may 
form of me, because he find no more than I 
have left him in my will. And yet I never 
shall forget how much the open-hearted and 
the cheerful differ from the spendthrift, or how 
much the thrifty differ from the niggardly. 
For there's a difference between a reckless 
squandering of means, and an avoidance 
of a miserly unwillingness to spend or care 
to get more than's enough; and one would 
better choose, like boys sometimes, their 
2 Easter holidays, to hastily enjoy a short and 2 Five da y- s ' holiday, 

J j j j f rom M arc h I9 ,h to the 

pleasant time. Let all disgusting meanness 23rd. 
in one's house be far removed, On large or 
humble means I still shall live with uniform 
consistency ; suppose I be not borne along 



220 EPISTLE II. BOOK II. 

• with well-filled sails by fav'ring winds, yet 

still I don't drag on my life amid adversity's 
rough storms ; in strength, in genius, appear- 
ance, merit, rank, and means, I'm ever run- 
ning midway in the race of life. Suppose you 
be no miser, then I say, well done ; but, 
pray, has every vice besides fled from you 
with that one ? Pray is your heart quite 
free from all insatiate desire for place ? — 
quite free from dread of death ? quite free 
from rage ? — Can you deride the vulgar view 
of dreams, of incantations' mystery, strange 
natural phenomena, the sorceress, the ghost 
by night, and magic's awful power? — And 
do you gratefully compute the years you've 
lived? — excuse your friends' mistakes? — grow 
both a gentler and a better man as age 
/ .*., the mere fact of comes on ? If n ot, pray, how much better 
^ifar b ^ a m ^are you for the riddance of one moral 

you a philosopher. weed Qut of SQ iafge a crQp ? j f yQU ^^ 

live aright, give place to those who can ; 
you've had enough of love, and banqueting, 
and wine ; 'tis time for you to leave, lest 
younger men, whom gaiety and pleasure 
better suit, should laugh at you for having 
drunk too deep a draught, and drive you off 
the sta^ e of life. 



ARS POETICA. 

The Art of Poetry was written in a letter to Lucius Piso, who was after- 
wards Prefect of the City at Rome, and to his two sons. The absence of 
continuity in the ideas expressed, and the general character of the work, 
give rise to the belief that it was more a sketch by letter of what he 
intended afterwards to amplify and systematize. 



Suppose a painter should elect to join a " From line i to 23 he 

. liii describes the simplicity 

horse s neck unto a human head, and then and uniformity of all 

, , , r .. r . . , works of art. 

to spread the plumage of all sorts of birds 
upon his canvas. While the limbs were 
chosen from such motley sources, that the 
picture of a lovely woman at the top should 
end in the portrayal of some monster of 
the deep of hideous blackness, would you 
then, my friends, when once let in to see 
this work, refrain from ridicule ? 

Consider, then, ye Pisos, (father and sons 
too), that every book where empty fiction 
shall be formed like the chimaeras of distem- 
pered brains, in such a way that neither head 
nor foot be given to a model that is uniform, 2 2 The word "uni" by 
will be extremely like that wretched daub. " ita utuaa!?." 8 pat 

3 Yet surely both the painter and the poet 5 An objector says this. 
ever have enjoyed fair licence to attempt 
the strangest works. 



22 2 ARS POETICA. 

i Demand as poets; Of course, and we l demand and errant in 

give as critics. ° 

turn such privilege, yet not so far that fierce- 
ness should be classed with gentleness, the 
snake dwell with the bird in peace, the tiger 
with the lamb. 

Oft one or two descriptions of the sena- 
tor's broad purple stripe are foisted into 
tragic and heroic works of great pretensions, 
for effect, though Dian's grove and altar, 
winding streams as they purl swiftly through 
delightful fields, the river Rhine, or rainbow, 
is the subject of the poet's pen. Yet here 
was not the place for such digression. 
2 Said proverbially of And I dare say you can 2 paint a cypress 

an indifferent painter. • • f ' 

well enough : though what s the good of that, 
if sitters pay their price, and then are repre- 
sented swimming from a wreck bereft of all 
their goods ? 

Again : suppose a noble jar is being fashi- 
oned by the potter, how, pray, as the wheel 
turns round, is but a paltry pitcher the result ? 

In fine, be works of any style you please, 
if they observe consistency and uniformity. 
» Horace now enume- 3 Ye Pisos, father and sons worthy of your 

rates the defects common J 

to ail kinds of poetry, and father, most of us bards are misled by a mere 

confesses that he himself . . 

is not free from them. semblance of what's right. For instance, I 
try to be terse, and I turn out obscure ; then 
those who aim at a 6mooth, easy flow, lack 
fire and force ; those who pretend to the 
sublime are but bombastic ; those who are 
too cautious and too fearful of a storm are 
grovelling in style ; while others, in their 
eager wish to represent a single subject in 



ARS POETICA. 



223 



astonishingly varied lights, make the pro- 
verbial mistake of painting dolphins in a 
wood, and wild boars in the sea. Unskilled 
attempts to shun mistakes but lead us on to 
fresh defects. Why, near y^Emilius' gladia- 
torial school there dwells a brazier, who will 
better than all others mould in bronze e'en 
1 nails and waving hair, though he will prove , ! 'r hey r ^ired very 

° r del-cate casting. 

unlucky in his work's completion, for he'll 
not know how to suitably arrange the whole. 
If I were thinking of composing aught, I'd 
no more care to be like him than to live 
with a nose awry, admired though I were for 
my black eyes and hair. 

Choose, then, ye authors, subjects suited 
to your powers, and find out long before 
what load your shoulders can, and what they 
cannot, bear. Nor fluency nor clear arrange- 
ment will be lacked by him who has selected 
themes adapted to his wit. 

The merit and the grace, if I mistake not, 
of arrangement, will consist in authors of 
projected poems saying, in their work's first 
lines, what then must needs be said, in put- 
ting off and for the moment keeping in 
reserve most of their thoughts and plot, — in 
choosing this, rejecting that. 

Then, with a critic's care and judgment in 
disposing words, one will express one's self 
with admirable skill, suppose a clever com- 
bination shall have made an old word seem 
quite new. And if, as possibly may be, one 
be obliged to illustrate an abstruse matter by 



224 ARS POETICA. 

some modern terms, it will then be one's lot 
i Cetheiu* was a ceie- to frame words never heard by Romans 1 of 

brited orator, called 

" Suadae medulla,"— the old times ; and this same licence, if but 

essence of persuasion. 

"Gnctutus" means moderately used, will be allowed, 

wc.irin iT a ^irdle as the • as, lor in- 

ancient's did, while the 2 and new and recently Coined stance, centima- 
mo-e e Teminate moderns . .... . nus, taunformis, 

wore ihe lunic ungirded. WOrdS Will be in VOgUe, SUppOSe beluosus, inter- 

. . mundia, qualitas, 

their origin be Greek, and only aequaiibritas, ve- 

. . i'i riloquium, essen- 

a small number thence derived, da, indoioria. 
But why, pray, shall our public Statius, of Gallic 
grant to Statius and Plautus by gm bi'rth, S and 
licence not allowed to Virgil comic poe 
and to Varius ? Why am I looked upon with 
jealousy, if I can add a few new words and 
»Cata the Censor is phrases, when the language Ennius and 3 Cato 
used has found fresh stores for their own 
country's tongue, and brought new terms in 
vogue? It aye has been, and aye will be 
allowed, one to bring into daily use a term 
stamped with the current mark. As by their 
leaves the woods are changed each autumn 
that comes round, and as the earliest fall off, 
so words once used die out, and, like the 
young words newly coined, will grow and 
thrive. 

Death claims us and our works alike, ay, 

4 The Portus Julius, though the 4 harbour by Augustus made pro- 

th e m waters of J the Ave?- tects our fleets from north winds' rage (a work 

"'^Vhe draining of" the well worthy of a king), or though that marsh, 5 

Pontine marshes. ^ ^^ fit foj boats alone> nQW finds 

food for the towns around, and feels the 
i Augustus prevented plough sunk deep in earth ; or Tiber, 6 shown 

the inurdations caused •, • • j • . « _ « 

by the Tiber, by building a better course, has changed its channel 
rJ^afrmTtheiulT' erst destructive to our crops, still, all that 



ARS POETICA. 2 25 

man can do will come to nought : far less, 
then, can the favour and the influence that 
language has remain unchanged. Oft terms 
that now are obsolete will be brought 
in again, and those in vogue will fall into 
disuse, if custom, that controls the choice 
and right and rule of speech, shall will it 
so. Great Homer showed us in what metre 
the exploits of kings and generals and all 
war's horrors could be told. At first the 
sad lament, and afterwards pleased feelings, 
too, were shown in elegiac verse. Yet still 
philologists contend, and their contention's 
undecided, as to who first introduced the 
humbler elegy. The rage he felt stirred up 
lArchilochus with the iambic he himself com- .1 Not even ten lines 

his works are extant. 

posed. This metre the low shoe of comedy, 
and this the stately tragic buskin, chose as fit 
for dialogue, both since it drowned the noise 
the people made when in the theatre, and 
since 'twas naturally formed for action. But 
the Muses gave to lyric poetry the art of 
representing gods and demigods ; the boxer's 
victory ; the steed first in the race ; the 
young man's loves, and the free speech that 
wine begets. And why am I called " bard" 
by all, if I have not the power or the skill 
t'observe distinctions made, and the com- 
plexion of each several work ? Why with 
false modesty do I prefer to keep so ignorant 
than to find out the truth ? 

A comic subject is unsuited for description 
in the tragic metre, while a tragic theme 

p 



226 ARS POETICA. 

will not bear treating in familiar verse 

that's nearly fit for comedy. Let each style 

fitly keep the place it has assigned to it. 

» vide Terence, "Add- *Yet sometimes even comedy is spoken in a 

phi, 5, 3, 3. Demea ' x 

sp^ks. grander tone, 2 or else an angry father rails 

2 Terence, " The Self- . . ° J 

Tormentor," 5, 4 . against his son with cheeks that swell with 

5 Teiephus was a son rage, and 3 Telephus and 4 Peleus, tragic 

of Hercules, and King of & ' . r . . 

Mysia. though their lot, ofttimes express their grief 

* Peleus was the father . ' r . ° 

of Achiiies and son of in simple stvle : when both m poverty and 

.£acus. He killed his .. f { . _ _ , \ 

brother and went mad. exile they give up inflated terms and words 
of wondrous length if they intend to move 
the listener's feelings by their plaint. 'Tis 
not enough that poetry be written with regard 
to art ; let it be tender too, and draw the 
hearer's heart whithersoever it will. Just as 
the human face smiles upon those who smile, 
so it shows sympathy with those who weep ; 
and so, if you want me to weep, you must 
first grieve yourself, and then, you actor of 
the lot of Teiephus or Peleus, your misfor- 
tunes will touch me. But if you utter words 
unsuited to the part, I shall or fall asleep 
or laugh. A mournful tone the sorrow- 
stricken face becomes, a threatening the 
enraged ; but merry words become the gay, 
and grave the stern : and surely nature trains 
in early years the feelings of our hearts to 
suit each phase of fate ; makes us feel joy, 
excites to rage, or bows us to the earth and 
tortures with deep woe, then gives those 
feelings vent by speech's explanation. Yet 
suppose the speaker's words be not adapted 
to his state, the Roman knights and common 



ARS POETICA. 227 

people too will raise a loud derisive laugh. 

'Twill make great difference whether the 

actor play the part of god or demigod ; of 

one of ripe old age, or one impetuous, and in 

the bloom of youth ; of matron ruling her * The prefix " re" in &e 

own house, or of attentive nurse ; of roving "after somany ot™™!" S 

trader, or of tiller of green fields; of some of ' %%£ whoT^d 

fierce Colchian or effeminate Assyrian; of |g S&"aUS£ b £id 

one brought up at Thebes, or at the rival g^fa™ £ e rsu > th £ 

town ; or follow what tradition tells, or be ? tre T m ? f r e l ea wi ™ CT 

' > brotner s limbs. \v hen 

consistent in invention. If, as possibly may J ason repudiated her to 

' r J J marry Creusa. she killed 

be, you put* upon the stage once more the *} er owr \ , children by 

. . Jason and burned Creuta 

great Achilles' part, let him be ever active, to death. 

. . . ino was the wife of 

passionate, implacable, and fierce ; let him Athamas. King of Thebes, 

_ . . who went raving mad, 

swear laws were never made for him; with and pursued her until she 

- . . •11 • ■ 1 -r» 1 1 ,, , , threw herself into the sea, 

him let might be right. But let L Medea be and, together with her 

,, j ,, > A 9 T • 1 i sister Melicerta, was 

untamable and resolute, but A Ino quickly changed into a sea- 
moved to tears ; 3 Ixion treacherous ; 4 Io in g °3 hdonwas king of the 
exile wandering ; 5 Orestes sternly mad. mu?dered m J\**Sthk?it 
Suppose you represent upon the stage some ^tS pratT* jupS? 

plot untried before, and dare f invent new^j^^te 
characters : let the same model that you ™f d ^ an T U1 ? su cce..sfui 

J attack on Juno s chastity, 

started with be kept quite to the end, and for which he was bound 

1 * ' to a revolving wheel in 

see that it be uniform. 'Tis hard to portray Tartarus. 

x J 4 lo was daughter of 

characters that many have, as if distinctively Jnachus, King of Argos, 

J t J beloved by Jupiter, and 

your own: and one does better to spin out tume 1 into a cow through 

fear o. Juno. Juno drove 

Homeric themes to several acts, than if one her mad; but uiumate.y 

she married Osiris, King 

were the first to publish subjects both un- of Egypt. 

known and undescribed before. A subject mother, Uytemnestra, for 

_ . . ....... her nmrcler of his father 

from the general store will be distinc- and he* husband A ga - 

1 , . r , ■•..! .« memnon. He was driven 

tively one s own, if one spend little time on ma u by' the Furies, was 
hackneyed views of it that all alike can ^ted' by° S Minerva^s 

claim, and if one do not set one's self to ££ ing v ° te and Ap ° llo ' s 



228 ARS POETIC A. 

translate closely word for word, or through a 
servile imitation get involved in limits so 
confined that shame or the work's plan 
prevent one's extrication. 

Don't begin Jike this, as Homer's imitators 
erst : " I'll sing of Priam's lot, and of the 
celebrated war." For what will such a 
boasting author give us worthy of his high- 
flown strain ? Why, as the proverb goes, 
the mountains are in labour, but an absurd 
mouse will come to birth. And how much 
better writes this poet, who shows taste in 
all his works ! — 

i The first lines of the la Describe, I pray, my Muse, the hero 
who, when Troy was ta'en, saw characters 
of many men, and saw their states." His 
purpose is to give a brilliant narrative after 
a modest opening, not a spiritless account 
after commencing with quite dazzling arro- 
gance ; and this he does so that he may in 
order bring to notice all his wonderful con- 

2 Antiphates, a king of ceptions like the truth : such as 2 Antiphates 

the Lsestrygones, who on t> i l ^i i v l 

sunk the Greek fleet re- or bcylla, Polyphemus or Chary bdis ; he 

turning with Ulysses from -, , ■, • i • . -. r -[->.• j , , 

Troy, and devoured one does not begin his tale of Diomede s return. 

sey^Lr^o.' "scyiia and from Troy with Meleager's 3 death, or his 

-!?Mf : ^?8s d f12d relation of the Trojan war with 4 Helen's 

"^t^\,° d * SSey ' wondrous birth ^ he ever hastens to his 

ti^hurTcycHcpoet 11 " P oem ' s issue, — hurries on his readers to his 

^nf^^ttl^ot's main action, just as though they 

form of a swan. knew it well ; omits all that he knows will 

gain no lustre in the handling ; and so 

frames his fiction, so well blends the false 

with true, that the chief plot agrees well 



ARS POETIGA. 22<) 

with the opening, and the end with the 
chief plot. 

Just listen, Piso, to what I and all the 
public with me look for from you : if you 
want an audience t'applaud until the ' cur- T The curtain of the 
tain's drop, and one that means to sit until dropped a? the end of the 
the actor cries, '< Now clap your hands ;" play ' but raised * 
you must then strongly mark the character 
that suits each time of life, and draw a 
graceful disposition of men's characters aye 
changing as the years roll on. The child 
that can now clearly speak and firmly walk, 
plays gladly with its mates; gets in a 
rage with thoughtless haste, and easily 
calms down again, and changes every hour 
that goes. 

Again, the stripling freed at last from the 
attendant's rule, delights in keeping dogs 
and horses, or in training on the sunny 
2 Campus' grass; seduced to vice with all the »/.*., the Campus Mar- 
pliancy of wax ; rough to all those who give us " 
him good advice ; slow to advance his 
interest, but reckless in expenditure ; elated, 
eager in desires, and swift to give up what 
he just now loved. 

But manhood's age, with feelings and pur- 
suits all changed, seeks influence and friend- 
ship's aid ; tries hard to gain distinction : 
takes care not to do what it would afterwards 
be very glad to change. But many draw- 
backs oft beset the old, because, perhaps, 
they try to gain still more, and wretchedly 
avoid to touch, and dare not use what they've 



23° ARS POETICA. 

amassed ; or else because they do whate'er 
they do with chilling caution and procrasti- 
nate, are slow to hope, lethargic, ever looking 
for some future time, morose and peevish, 
praising time they spent when they were 
boys ; reprovers, too, and censurers of 
younger men. Life up to forty years of age 
brings much advantage in its train, and 
afterwards takes much away. Then, to 
prevent the chance of characters that suit 
the old being assigned to those in manhood's 
prime, or those that suit a man to a mere 
boy, we should keep our attention fixed on 
those that properly belong to, and so suit 
the several times of life. A thing is either 
Sadi as suicides and done upon the sta^e or done Elsewhere, 

deaths. l a 

and tidings of it brought. What falls upon 
the ear stirs not men's feelings as does what 
is witnessed by the trusty eye, to tell them 
which the audiencerequire no messenger. Yet 
still don't bring upon the stage what should 
be done more privately, and keep much from 
- Aliens, the father of m en's si^ht which some eye-witness' eloquence 

Menelaus and Agarnem- a , J 

non was King of Argos mav afterwards make known. Let no Medea 

and Mycenae, and served 

up his brother Thyestes* s j av ] ler sons before the public s:aze, and let 

sons at a banquet to the * o l ° 

father. n0 wicked 2 Atreus openlv cook entrails for 

3 Procue was daughter x 

of Pandion, King of that horrid feast, nor 3 Procue turn into a 

Athens, sister to Philo- 
mela and wife of Tereus. bird, or 4 Cadmus into snake. I don't be- 

She killed her son Itvs, . 

and served him up to his heve, and loathe whate'er you show me like 

father : she was changed . 

into a swallow, Philomela tO thlS. 

into a nightingale, and - . - f . - _- . ., , 

Tereus into a hoopoe. Again, don t let the play that means to be 

4 Cadmus was the ., . _ . . . . 

founder of Thebes, and called for and have a run, be shorter or e en 
writing" 1 ' 1C longer than five acts, and let no god take 



ARS POETICA. 23I 



part in it, unless some case of difficult 
distress arise to need such champion ; and 
let not a fourth character try to intrude his 
speech. See that the chorus take part in the 
play, and do its duty thoroughly, and let it 
not sing aught between the acts that does 
not aid and fitly suit the plot. Then let it 
side with honesty and virtue, and give kind 
advice, restrain the passionate, and ever 
quell the threats of pride. Let it praise 
meals that humble boards can give, praise 
justice' benefits, the written law, and peace 
with gates not leaguered by the foe. Let it 
keep secrets safe, pray to the gods, and beg 
that fortune may once more upon the 
wretched smile, and leave the proud in 
misery. The flute was not, as now, brass- 
bound, and rivalling the trumpet's notes, but 
thin in tone and plain in form, with but few 
stops ; was fitted to accompany and aid the 
chorus, and fill with its sound the rows of 
seats not yet too closely packed ; for thither 
certainly a public flocked that one could 
count, since few and moderate, and pure 
and modest, were the people there. But 
when the Romans widened out their empire's 
bounds by conquest, and when ampler walls 
girt in the towns, and when on holidays 
men's guardian gods were made propitious 
fearlessly by wine drunk in the day, then 
greater freedom was conferred on measures 
and on rhythm. And, pray, what taste could 
the unlettered clown, when freed from toil, 



232 ARS POETICA. 

show in incongruous society with educated 
men, — the base born with the nobleman? 
And so the player on the flute gave gestures 
and more scenic splendour to his art, and 
now to right, and now to left, trailed tragic 
trains across the stage ; so, too, shrill tones 
were added to the lute's deep notes, and 
bolder fancy-flights found vent in words 
unheard before, and what the chorus said, 
with quick perception of true interest and 
keen foresight, were very like unerring oracles 
from Delphi sent. 

1 Description of the lr The bard who strove in tragic verse to 

satync drama. # # 

gain the prize of tragedy, the goat so value- 
less, soon after brought nude on the stage, 
wild satyrs (a new style), and roughly, though 

2 These characters were not losing the 2 grave character of god or 

brought on the stage as 

demigod, tried raillery, because the audi- 
ence, when now the sacrifice was done, were 
drunk and riotous, and had to be kept in 
their seats by some enticement and by 
pleasing novelty. 

But 'twill be suitable so to commend to 
public taste the bantering, the witty satyrs — 
so to temper tragic gravity with comic jest — 
that neither god nor demigod who shall be 
brought upon the stage, and who just now 
was seen, in royal gold and purple dressed, 
go from a palace to an humble hut and utter 
vulgar words, or in attempts to shun a style 
that's tame, affect a meaningless obscurity. 

* There were some 

sacred rites at wh:ch Real I raged}*, that does not deign to babble 

married women danced, . n . . . ... .,,., . . , . 

such as those trifling lines, will, "like staid matron bade to 



ARS POETICA. 2-33 

dance on holidays, mix with the wanton 
satyrs, and still keep a show of modesty. 

1 I never shall, ye Pisos, as a writer of * He mentions the kind 

.of writing that suits the 

satyric drama, be content with simple ordi- satyric drama. 

nary terms alone, nor shall I try so hard to 

differ from the usual character of tragedy 

that it should make no difference if some 

slave and bold woman who obtained more 

than 2 two hundred pounds by cheating her 2 The talent was about 

r J o ,6250 in value. 

old master, or if a Silenus, guardian and 
attendant to the 3 god he reared, should speak. 3 Le -> Bacchus. 
I will so aim at a satyric drama, formed 
artistically from an ordinary theme, that any 
one you like should hope to do the same, 
but when he tried his skill should labour 
very hard and spend much toil in vain ; so 
much do continuity and combination tell : 
such grace is sometimes given to a common 
theme. If I be critic, let the satyrs, brought 
from woods upon the stage, take care that 
never, like street-boys in towns or idlers in 
the market-place, they act or play the wanton 
rake in lines effeminately soft, or chatter 
noisily in filthy and defaming speech. In- 
deed, at this the Roman 4 gentlemen, the free- 4 Slaves and freedmen 

were those who had no 

born and the rich, are much annoyed ; nor recognised fathers, so 

those who had a father 

do they willingly acknowledge or present the would be "ingenui." 
crown of bay to what the people's lowest 

dre^S approve. 5 ' Literally "if the pur- 

L l chaser of parched peas and 

Short syllables when followed by long ones nuts approve anything." 
are called iambics ; a quick measure this, 
which quickness gave the name of " trimeter 
iambics" to the verse, though made of pure 



234 ARS POETICA. 

iambics from the first foot to the last, it had 
six beats. And not so long ago, the measure 
with obliging readiness admitted steady 
spondees to its early heritage of laws, but 
not so far as to give up iambics in the second 
and fourth feet as readily as comrades yield. 
Yet this iambus in the second and fourth feet 
1 Slightly ironical. is seldom seen in those ^ne trimeters of 
Accius men like so now, and (by its absence) 
stigmatises Ennius's lines hurled on the stage 
with spondees' mighty weight, by charging 
them with far too hasty and too careless com- 
position, or with want of skill. It is not any 
critic in the world who sees a rhythmical 
defect, and so a licence that he don't deserve 
is granted to the Roman bard. And just for 
that should I transgress due limits, and write 
by no rule, and think that none will see — 
or should I rather think that every man will 
see the errors I may make, and so pursue a 
plan that's safe, and cautiously attempt but 
what may find some tolerance ? In fine, I 
have avoided blame, but earned no praise. 
Ye Pisos, turn the pages of the best Greek 
writers over, both by day and night. 

But yet your ancestors praised Plautus' 
measures and his wit, though they admired 
both his measures and his wit too freely, not 
to say absurdly, if but you and I know how 
to separate a pointless joke from really witty 
repartee, and can but mark the pauses off, 
and have good ear to time and tune. 

'Twas said that Thespis was the author of 



ARS POETICA. 235 

a kind of tragedy not known before, and 
that he rode about the streets in wains 
together with his poetry for men to sing and 
act, whose faces were smeared o'er with lees 
of wine. 

Then after him came ^Eschylus, who first 
used tragic characters and tragic trains well 
worthy of the name ; who covered o'er the 
stage with ordinary planks, and taught the 
actors how to speak in grander tones and 
use the stately buskin's aid. 1 Next ancient 1 /. «•• after Thespis, 

. . iEschylus, Cratinus, Eu- 

Comedy came in, and was in vogue with poiis, Aristophanes. 
most. But speech's freedom here became a 
fault, and showed excess that merited some 

leeal Check, and SO a law 2 Was passed, and , * Decrees were passed 

7 * by Antimachus and Syra- 

then the chorus to its shame was dumb, for cosius perhaps b.c. 4 io. 
it had lost its licence to abuse. More 
modern bards left nought untried, and those 
perhaps gained most renown who dared to 
quit the path the Greeks had trod, and cele- s Fabuiae pratextatae, 
brate our nation's deeds, though it were &ST ? »SSS^S a S 
3 tragedy or 'comedy they put upon the gSS^afc^^ 
stage. And Latium would not be now more **&£3ltf£%£l 
powerful in valour and in martial glory than in os t i ^ m to T t ^ y " febX 

She is in Speech if but Correction's labour crepidatae," or Latin tra- 
1 gedies with a Greek plot. 

and delay did not disgust each bard she has. , 4 Fabuiae togatae were 

_ ^ Latin comedies with a 

5 Ye scions of Pompilius, find fault with Roman plot, opposed to 

fabulse palhatse, or those 

dramas that both course of time and much with a Greek plot. They 

were so called from the 

erasure have not well corrected; ay, un- toga, or national dress. 

, , . 5 The nominative is 

numbered times emended to the greatest used, as in Sat. 2, 2, to 7 , 

. . ... as a declaration more 

nicety. Yet just because Democntus thinks than an appeal. 

. , . - - , Calpus was a son of 

genius more blest than miserable art, and Numa Pompilius, and the 

■> ^ • • j i i rr r „.i Pisos were called Cal- 

shuts the uninspired bard oil from the pU mii from him. 



2. 3 6 ARS POETICA. 

of course this is irony Muses' hill, most writers give up " paring 

against the would-be ., , , . . , . 

poets of the day, who nails and shaving beard, haunt secret spots, 

were quite ignorant, and j , t1 ■, -, 

devoid of genius or art. and shun the bath. 

And doubtless they will gain the longed- 
for name of "bard," if they have ne'er let 

1 Licinus was made a ^icinus our barber cut the hair from heads 

senator for his hatred of 

Pompey. Such an e e- that hellebore from three Anticyras could 

vation for a barber gave 

rise to the epitaph,— never cure. 

" Marmoreo tumnlo Li- . . . . 

cinus jacet, at Cato O stupid that I am to rid myself of bile 

nullo, . . . i r t i t 

Pompeius parvo, quis when spring-time comes ! for did I not, no 

putet essedeos?" ., . . . 

which might be rendered other would write poetry in better style. 
" The barber lies in 2 But there's nought in it worth all this, 
no stone" 1 " "° m ' So, then, I'll do the whetstone's work, which 

P p tce%7reft r : at Cat °' s can make sharp the steel, although itself it 
W t r \um°bT^ cut: and so, though I write nought 

TilargodTexist, who m y self > l wil1 explain the author's work and 

could have guessed? d t tQQ the stQres from w hi c h he dra\VS 
For Anticyra, see Sat. J > 

2j 3» 8 3- material; what makes and trains the bard; 

2 There is no good rea- 
son why i should care to what suits him, what does not ; what the 

be a poet according to . 

their standard. result of merit in the art, and what of 

ignorance. The sense of the philosopher is 
the real source of writing well. The works 
of men who followed Socrates will show you 
subjects to write on ; and words will readily 
attend a subject carefully thought out. 

He who has learnt his duty to his country 
and his friends ; who knows what love to 
show a parent, brother, or a guest ; the 
duties of a senator or judge ; the office of a 
general on service sent, — beyond a doubt 
knows how to give each character its proper 
traits. I'll bid the man who draws a picture 
of "the real" with skill, regard the copy life 



ARS POETICA. 237 

and morals give, and get expressions thence 
instinct with life. Sometimes a drama 
showily set off with ordinary truths, in which 
the characters are duly marked, although 
devoid of grace and dignity and art, delights 
the public more, more forcibly attracts, than 
lines devoid of fact, and light melodious 
verse. 

The Muse gave to the Greeks both genius 
and power to speak in neat and fluent tones; 
to Greeks who cared for nothing but renown. 
But Roman bovs learn how to subdivide The Romans paid much 

more attention to arith- 

the pound by lengthy sums into minutest mstic than poetry, a 

side b'ow is aimed here 
partS. NOW let the money-lenders SOn at their avarice and eager 

, , , . r, . r . r r pursuit of wealth. 

tell this : Suppose a twelfth from five- 
twelfths be subtracted, what remains? You 
might have said, " The third part of a 
pound." Well done ! you'll want no aid to: 
guard your property. Suppose a twelfth be 
added, what does that come to? It comes 
to half a pound. And yet when once cor- 
rupting avarice and care for gain like this 
has tinged our thoughts, do we expect that 
poems worthy of ! immortal fame can be 1 Literally, worthy to 

, - be rubbed with cedar oil 

COmpOSeCl r and stored up in smooth 

rpi , , • • , • , , t cypress chest. The cedar 

The poet s aim is to instruct or please, or ga v e an oil that protected 

.-Mi,* • , • i -j things from decay, and 

tell what is at once instructive and an aid the cypress wood was 

to life. In all didactic poetry be brief, so £ e s £ for the same pur ~ 

that the minds you teach may swiftly learn 

and faithfully retain your words. All that is 

needless touches not the mind already full 

of thought on what is said. Let fiction 

made to please be very like the truth, and. 



2$& ARS POETICA. 

let no drama claim an indiscriminate belief, 
nor represent some monstrous incident, 
i More than 45 years of 1 Our companies of older men deride what 

age. 

lacks instructive truth, while younger knights 
with arrogance despise grave poetry. But he 

2 Literally, is wont to 2 gains full applause who with instruction 

gain every vote. " Punc- 

ta" were dots on waxen blends what is attractive by delighting and 

tablets as signs of votes , 

before the introduction informing equally all those who read. 

of separate ballots. 

Such books pay our best publishers, are 
sent abroad for sale, and win undying fame 
for the now celebrated bard. 

But there are faults one well may over- 
look, for neither does the string sound as 
the hand and inclination wills, but often 
answers sharp when one would have a flat; 
nor will the arrow from the bow aye hit the 
mark. But when a poem's greater part is 
beautiful, I shall not be disgusted with a few 
mistakes that carelessness has caused, or 
human weakness failed to guard against. 
Well, what then is the rule ? 

Just as a. copyist is not excused, if, though 
forewarned, he ever make the same mistake ; 
just as the harpist is laughed at who always 
strikes the same wrong note : so, in my 
judgment, he who's very carelesss is as bad 

3 Choeriius only made as that notorious bard 3 Chcerilus ; for him I 

seven good lines in de- . . . 

scribing ail the exploits wonder at and laugh when he snows two or 

of Alexander. . ... , . j , 

Compare Ep. 2, 1,232. three good lines, and also am annoyed when- 
e'er a poet really good grows careless in his 
work. Although one well may be allowed 
to show less vigilance in such long works as 
Homer wrote. As painting is, so poetry : 



ARS POETICA. 239 

there will be pictures to attract you more on 
nearer view, and some you'll like when seen 
more distantly. One loves the gloom; 
another will prefer to be viewed in broad 
day, if it dread not the critic's nice percep- 
tion : one has pleased but once, another will 
please though viewed many times. And do 
you, elder of the Pisos, though you're trained 
to right by what your father says, and have 
good taste yourself, still take this rule to 
heart and well remember it, that moderate 
and passable proficiency can in some cases 
be allowed. To put a case : the barrister 
and pleader of but ordinary power does not 
come near the excellence of our best mem- 
bers of the bar, and still is valued ; but nor 
gods nor men, nor even pillars where the 
books are hung for sale, have granted aught 
but failure or complete success to bards. 
As at a pleasant feast discordant music, and The Corsican and Sar- 

*■ Qinian honey had the 

coarse unguent, and the poppy-seed mixed worst flavour ; that of 

f wtrj Mount Hymettus and 

with bad honey, cause disgust, because the Hybia the best. 
meal might be prolonged without such need- 
less aid ; so poetry, both made and intro- 
duced for giving pleasure to the soul, sinks 
to the lowest depths if it but fall a little 
short of highest excellence. The man who 
cannot take part in the games ne'er tries to 
wield the weapons on the plain of Mars ; and 
he who is unskilled at tennis, quoits, or 
hoop, tries not to gain distinction so, lest 
• the dense throng that crowds around 
should safely raise a laugh; but he who 



240 ARS POETICA. 

* 

knows not aught of poetry still dares to 

write. 

a One of the bad poets i\Vell, pray, why not? says one : I'm free- 
born ; nay, more — nobly born ! Besides, I'm 

2 Really £3,200. rated as possessing 2 the three thousand 

pounds or more the knights require ; in 
fine, my life is irreproachable. 

But, Piso, you'll not say or do aught that 
don't suit your genius, so excellent is both 
your judgment and your intellect. Yet 
still, if e'er you shall have written aught, 

s SpuHus Msedus Tar- submit it 3 to our shrewdest critic's ears; your 

pa, vide Sat., 1, 10, page r ,i 1 j j . ,i 

60. ' ' ' F& fathers too and mine: and put the manu- 

script by privately till more than eight years 
have gone by, for you'll be able to emend 
what you've not published; but words 01 ce 
sent forth can ne'er return. Once Orpheus, 
heaven's priest and gods' interpreter, made 
savage men who lived in woods give up their 

4 He means acoms and mur( iers and dissrustino: 4 food : and he, 

raw flesh, such as beasts , . 

only ought to eat. through this, was said to have soothed 

savage tigers', ay, and lions' rage. Amphion, 
too, that founder of the Theban town, was 
said to have moved rocks at his lute's sound, 
and led them wheresoe'er he would by mild 
persuasion's power. Their wisdom in old 
times was this, — to separate the national 
from private rights, things sacred from pro- 
fane ; to stay the sexes from a lawless inter- 
course ; frame rules for man and wife ; build 

5 Before the use of towns ; 5 carve laws on oak. By means like 

this, respect and fame accrued to the immor- 
tal bard and to his poetry. Then, after 



ARS POETICA. 24T 

them, great Homer and 1 Tyrtaeus roused the . > Tyrtaeus was an 

7 ° < y Athenian, who, in the 

manly mind to martial deeds in fight : the second M^ssenian war, 

was sent out by the Athe- 

oracle's response was told in song, the path mans to help Sparta as a 

. . general. His harangue 

of life marked out ; kings favour sought m to his soldiers was in 

_ ... . . verse. 

Muses strains, and relaxation and cessation 
from long toil found out : and this I tell you, 
lest perchance the Muse of lyric poetry, and 
Phoebus, god of song, should make you feel 
ashamed of them. It has been questioned 
whether poetry that's really good is made 
from nature's gift or skill : but I can't see 
what study could effect without rich vein of 
genius, nor genius untrained ; so much the 
one requires the other's aid, and with such 
harmony conspires to work the end in 
view. 

The man who purposes to reach the 
wished-for goal will bear much and do 
much when young, endure both heat and 
cold, refrain from women and from wine ; 
and so the minstrel who sings Pythian 
strains will 2 learn before and 2 fear the critic's 2 . Th e perfects are used 

aoristically. 
blame. 'Tis not enOUgh tO Say, I am COm- He compares the in- 
tending poet to one going 

posing poetry of wondrous excellence ; " a to run in the Olympic 
murrain seize the last," as boys say 3 in their 3 The umpire in a boy s 

.. ,. r . , . - - , . . . race used to say, The 

game : it is disgraceful to be left behind, first shall be a conqueror, 

j ,. r 1 t 1 1 1 1 an d him I will acknow* 

and really to confess that I don t know what ledge gladly; but the 

11 i i T 1 last I will reject as 

nave never learned. Just as a crier who though tainted by some 

collects a crowd to buy his wares, the poet 

who is rich in land and money placed at 

interest, bids those who flatter him come for 

rewards. But should he be a man who can 

give a good dinner with nice taste, be 

Q 



242 ARS POETICA. 

surety for a poor mm of small credit, and 
relieve a man entangled in a gloomy law- 
suit, I shall feel amazed if he, so rich, shall 
i Horace means that know Miow to distinguish false friends from 

the flatterers and para- 
sites will prevent him. the true. So whether you have given aught, 

or whether you shall mean to give to any one, 

a Because of the gift, don't bring him 2 full of joy to hear the 

verses you have made, for he'll cry out, 

" How charmingly, how well, how suitably 

s That is, feigned, or composed ! " Pale with 3 emotion he will 

induced merely through 

gratitude. grow at the more tragic parts : he'll even 

drop a tear from sympathetic eyes ; leap 
from his seat ; and, lastly, dance with joy. 

Just as hired mutes, who weep at funerals, 
almost exceed in words and acts of grief 
real mourners, so these false admirers are 
apparently affected more than those who are 
sincere. 

Tis said that wealthy nobles ply with oft- 
repeated bumpers and test well with wine 
all those whose inmost feelings they would 
know, to see if they be worthy of their 
patronage ; so, if you shall be writing poetry, 
ne'er let the crafty mind, that lies concealed 
as though in fox's skin, deceive. If to 
4 Quintiiius Varus of * Quintilius you read your lines, he'd say, 

Cremona. Se° the 24th " „ * ' - .1 - 

Ode of Book i., where " Pray alter this and that. And if, when 

Horace mourns his . . . . . ,i 

death. you had tried in vain two or three times, 

you vowed you could not do aught better, 
then he'd bid you rub them out, and place 
again upon thought's anvil such rough lines. 
But if you rather would defend your fault 
than alter it, he would not waste another 



ARS POETICA. 243 

word or spend more fruitless toil to stay 
your admiration of yourself and works with- 
out a single rival in the field. A man of 
honesty and sense will censure careless lines, 
blame rough ones, draw his pen crosswise, 
and will fix a black mark to those that are 
de^)id of taste ; will cut out bold redundant 
ornament, oblige the writer to throw light 
on what's obscure. He will arraign a phrase 
that is ambiguous ; will mark what should 
be changed : in fine, will be a critic such as 
^ristarchus was, and will not say, " Pray . " He was p.™ verbialI r 

J ' J the greatest critic. 

why should I offend my friend in trifles such 
as these ?" For trifles such as these will 
bring to grave 2 mischance a poet once 2 Such a repute as 

Choerilus, Bavius, and 

laughed at and heard unfavourably on the M^vius had. 
stage. The prudent fear to touch mad 
bards, and shun them as they would a man 
whom plaguing itch or jaundice, frenzy or 
sad lunacy distressed ; boys heap abuse upon 
their heads, and all who are regardless 
of their safety follow them. 

If, while he spouts his lines with head 
aloft, and wanders carelessly about, like 
fowler bent on catching birds, he fall into a 
well or pit, although he loudly cry, "Bring Gorea =apitfalh 
aid, my countrymen ! " there would not be a 
man who'd care to help him out. And 
should one care to render aid and throw a 
rope to him, how do you know that he did 
not on purpose jump into the hole, and does 
not wish to be preserved ? 

I will describe and tell the end of the 



244 ARS POETICA. 

i Empedodes, a famous Sicilian bard. l Empedocles, with easrer wish 

naiurai philosopher of * ° 

Agr.gentum. to be thought an immortal god, deliberately 

leapt into Mount Etna's blazing jaws. 

Let poets have the right and privilege to 
choose their death ; for those who save a 
man against his will but seem as if they 

su'cide'"' tHed t0 ccmmIt kill ed. And this is not the first 2 time he tad 
acted thus, nor if he be dragged back will 
he act like a man, and lay aside his wish for 
death so infamous. Nor is it clear why he 
writes poetry at all : whether because he 
may have desecrated his own father's grave, 
or sacrilegiously removed a sad memorial of 
lightning's force. But still beyond a doubt 
he's mad, and like a bear, if he has but been 
able to break through the bars that close his 
den, this troublesome rehearser chases those 
who care for poetry and those who don't 
alike : and if he has once caught a man, he 
keeps him, and by reading wearies him to 
death, just like a leech that does not mean 
to leave the skin till sated with the blood it 
draws. 



J. AND W. RIDER, PRINTERS, LONDON. 



[Specimen PageJ] 




f Wept long: ye streams, % ye hazel-trees, knew 

well 
The Nymphs' deep grief; what time the mother 

fell 
Beside, and clasping to her heart her son, 
Alas ! a piteous corpse, cried out, as none 
But mothers § can, on cruel fate and heaven. 
No, Daphnis, in those days no steers were driven 
To drink, "when fed, from cooling streams; no 

draught 
Of grateful water from the river quaff d 

* 19—44. Mo. We've reached the cave; I thus begin: "When 
Daphnis died the Nymphs shed tears ; his mother clasped her son's 
cold corpse and called npon the gods reproachfully : the flocks and 
herds were all unfed, the very lions roared aloud in grief : for 
Daphnis tamed the tiger, founded Bacchus' rural worship, was the 
glory of his friends : and now he's dead, a curse lies on the land, and 
where good seed was sown, there springs the noisome weed. Let us 
then raise his tomb and write his epitaph." 

t Line 21. Flebant, as Conington says, with a pause after it at the 
beginning of the verse, is meant to add to the melancholy effect. 
The two monosj'llables in the translation are an attempt to preserve 
the same effect. 
X Compare Scott : — 

" Call it not vain : they do not err : 
Who say that when the poet dies, 
Mute Nature mourns her worshipper 
And celebrates his obsequies : 
Who say tall cliff and cavern lone 
For the departed bard make moan." . . . 
§ The position of mater shows that it is meant to be emphatic. 

X X 

@>o _ — o<® 

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(1) Square and circular altars 
with cavity at the top for the fire 
and orifice at the side or bottom 
tor libations to flow through 



(4) Altar in a street at Pompeii, in 
front of a picture of the Lares Viales, 
or overseers of streets and roads. 




(5) Opilio, a shepherd watching 
his sheep. 



(2) Altar in a sacred grove, 
before a statue of Diana, taken 
from the Arch of Trajan. 





(3) Altar on the steps in front of the 
Temple of Fortune at Pompeii. 



(6) Pandean pipe (arundo) 
or (avena), made of seve- 
ral stalks of reed, cane, 
or wild oat. 



[Specimen Page,"] 



I 



y 



VIRGIL.— GEOBGIC IV. 



43 



This omen, thus at once began :* " There is 

In the Carpathian! ocean's vast abyss, 

By Neptune lov'd, a prophet who rides o'er 

The sea, drawn by strange creatures, horse J before 

And fish behind : his name is Proteus, and 

Sea-green his hue : he to his fatherland, 





Equus lipes. A mythic creature 
called a sea-horse, poetically at- 
tached to the marine chariot of 
Neptune and Proteus. 



Testudo. A variety of 
the lyre, with a sounding 
bottom, over which the 
chords were drawn to in- 
crease the fullness of the 
sound. 



Pallene,§ now returns, and to the ports 

Of Thessaly : we Nymphs him in our thoughts, 

* Argument. — She bids him go to Pallene in Macedonia with her, 
and there find Proteus, the prophetic old man of the sea, who would 
tell him the cause and cure of the evil, but only under the stress of 
persevering violence, as he would endeavour to elude the pressure by 
his power of transforming himself into all kinds of shapes. 

t The geography is, as usual, vague, the Carpathian Sea being 
strictly between Rhodes and Crete. 

% See illustration to Equus bipes. 

§ This points to a legend to which other writers refer, though it 
was not known by Homer j one version being that Proteus originally 



©x>- 



A 



[Specimen P«(je.~] 
44 THE STORY OF ARIST^US. 



From thee she fled. Her mates, the Dryad band, 
With cries filPd e'en the mountain-tops, the land 
Of Thrace so brave, where Bhesus* reign' d in years 
Gone by, — each height of B-hodopef shed tears, 
The Cretans,! Attic Orithyia,§ rills 
Of Hebrus, wept with tall Pangaean|| hills. 
He oft, his love-sick bosom solacing, 
Upon the hollow lute^f of thee would sing, 
His own dear wife, — of thee, when morn arose, 
On the lone shore, — of thee at evening's close. 
He e'en through Tsenarus'** dread entrance pass'd 
Pluto's deep portals, that grove overcast 

* Rhesus was supposed to be a son of one of the Muses, and a king 
of Thrace, who was robbed of his horse and killed by Diomedes and 
Ulysses before Troy. 

f Rhodope was a mountain range in Thrace, a part of the 
Hsemus. 

% The Getans were classed by the ancients among the Thracians. 
They resided on the banks of the Danube, and bordered on the 
Dacians. 

§ Orithyia was supposed to be the nymph of the country of Attica. 
Acte was the old name for Attica : so that Actias is appropriate as 
an epithet intimating that she was the daughter of Erechtheus. — Con. 

i| The Panga^an mountain was in Thrace, on the borders of 
Macedonia, near Philippi. 

% See illustration on page 43 to Testudo. 

** Taenarus was a promontory and town in Laconia j on the pro- 
montory was a temple of Neptune, and near it a cavern, the fabled en- 
trance to the infernal regions : it was also famous for its black marble. 

i | 

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[Specimen J? age.] 
SELECTIONS FOR LATIN PROSE. 41 

XLVIII. 

It is curious to observe 1 the different estimations two 
men make of one another's 2 happiness. 3 [Each of them 
surveys the external appearance of the other's situation, 
and thinks him happier, when comparing it with the secret 
disquieting circumstances of his own ;] 3 and so it is that, all 
the world over, be we favoured as we may, 4 there is ever 
something 5 which others have, and we have not, necessary 
to the completion of our felicity. I think, therefore, 6 upon 
the whole, there is no such thing as positive happiness in 
this world, and a man can only be deemed felicitous as he 
is in comparison less affected with positive evil. 7 

XLIX. 

1. Compare the metrical system of Virgil with that of 
Lucretius. 

2. Derive excuso, ambitio, secretus, egregius, sestertius, 
profecto, erudiOy securis, ancile, Salii, and Laperci. 

1 Operae pretium est with infinitive. Distinguish observare and animadvertere. 

2 The Latins were fond of bringing parts of words like alius and alter to- 
gether, e.g., alii aliafecere, " some did one thing, one another; " or, again, alter 
alterum interfecit, "one killed the other." 

3 Turn this sentence as if the English ran thus : " For as often as (quoties) 
whether of the two you please compares the external appearance (speciem) of the 
other's condition with those things which inwardly vex himself, he thinks him 
happier." 

4 Turn as if" However much the gods favour us." Remember the construction 
of quamvis and quanquam, and their different use and meaning. 

5 Render by aliquid boni, and you will so escape the difficulty of a substantive 
for " happiness." Avoid felicitas, beatitas, beatitudo, although the last two were 
coined by Cicero. It is not the peculiarities of a language we should imitate, 
but the usual forms and words. 

6 You may obviate the difficulty here by a direct quotation from Horace, in- 
troduced thus : "Wherefore I think that expression (Mud) of Flaccus is true," 
" Nihil est ab omni parte beatum. " 

7 Avoid the unsupported ablative after the oblique case of the comparative. 



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THE LATIN RENDERINGS TO THE " SELECTIONS.' ' 15 

dam, quo et, qualis vera gloria, et quid sit honesturn 
erga rem-publicam studiurn facilius intelligas. Triplex 
igitur, ut opinor, est hujus quaestionis deliberatio. 
Primum, utrum gloriae cupido rei-publicae necne 
prosit, quaerendum est. Deinde, quum duo sint gloriae 
genera, utrum horum ab optimo quoque anteferen- 
dum. Tertium disputandi genus est de gloria et 
honesti erga rem-publicam studii comparatione. 
Nimirum ex amore famae permulta civitati bona 
sunt, et semper erunt orta, et ab egregiis viris facta : 
sed haud scio an, rei-publicae utilitate omissa, suo 
privato commodo, ut servirent, ilia fecerint. 

XXVI. 

1 a, A fresh loan was being entered into for build- 
ing a wall, which was let by the censors on 
contract, to be constructed of hewn stone. 

b. Philippus stumbles onVulteius in the morning, 
as he sells his cheap brokery to the coatless 
rabble, and bids him good morning first. 
2. Manipulus : a name given to a company of 
soldiers, because Romulus tied a bundle 
(manipulus) of hay to the standards. 

Aedepol: a lengthened vocative of Pollux, and 
more correctly written Edepol. 

Ecastor : the vocative of Castor, with a demon- 
strative prefix e. 

Mediastinus : as eland estinus is formed from clam, 
so mediastinus is formed from medius. 

Medius-fidius (==. as true as heaven !) isDeus, with 
the demonstrative prefix me and the adjective 
fidias, tt'mjtioc. 

Mehereule: the vocative of Hercules, with a 
demonstrative prefix. 

Nudius-tertius : nudius == nunc dies, with a numeral 
to suit the number of days since : as, nudius- 
quartus, it is four days since. 



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[JSpecimen Page.'] 



26 



SATIRE II. 



By a glance you can measure her form, and discover 
If a misshapen leg or splay foot be veil'd over. 
For you surely don't wish that a trick should be play'd 
On you, and that my price I should get ere I've laid 
Out my wares for inspection. Thus, taken to task, 
The offender to these lines attention may ask : 
Says ^allimachus, " Often the hunter* the hare 




* Venath (hunting of wild beasts). 

Will course through the deep snow, and yet never will care 

E'en to touch it when kilPd, or with arrow pierc'd through. 

And, as apposite, add, " It is this that we do : 

For what all can obtain with such ease we pass by, 

And to reach what eludes the pursuer we try." 

Do you dream that the tide of fierce passion — that grief, 

Or life's cares from such paltry lines e'er find relief? 

Is it not better far nature's bounds to search out, 

To the passions — to learn what we can do without, 



1 A distinguished Greek poet and grammarian of Cyrene. 



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ECLOGUE IV. 25 

shall from the yoke his steers set free : nor shall 
wool learn to falsely imitate all kinds of hues, but in 
the mead, without the dyer's aid, the ram shall 
change the colour of his fleece for sweetly -blushing 
purple now, anon for yellow saffron's dye : lambs 
J as they graze shall be clothed with the scarlet's 
hues. " 2 Blest ages, speed ye onward," to their spindles 
sang the Parcae, who in concert tell th' unaltered 
will of fate. 

3 Assume, dear offspring of the gods, great son of 
Jove, successive highest offices of state ; soon will the 
time be here. See how the whole world nods with 
all its weight of vaulted arch : the earth, the ocean- 
tracts, and azure deep of air ! See how all nature 
joys in the approaching age ! Oh, 4 may a few years 
at the close of life be left me — time enough and 
breath inspired enough to sing thy deeds ! Nor 
Thracian Orpheus, no, nor Linus, though the one 
his mother, and his sire the other aid — Calliopea, 
Orpheus, Linus, beautiful Apollo's self — shall then 
surpass myself in song. 5 If Pan himself should vie 
with me in song, e'en with Arcadia for judge, Pan 
would confess himself surpassed, e'en with Arcadia as 
judge. 6 Begin, then, infant, 1 with thy smile to re- 

1 45. Pascentiszr pascentes. 

2 46. Compare the use of the Greek ovtos with this vocative of 
Talia. * 

3 48 — 59. Let him now take his seat upon his throne : the 
whole world with expectant longing waits for him, and shakes at 
his approach as temples at the coming of their gods. May I live 
long enough to tell of his glory ! the theme would raise me of 
itself ahove all hards, hoth human and divine. 

4 53. Quantum refers to tarn longae, hut is connected in sense 
with maneat. The confusion is from the number of predicates. 

5 58. The Arcadians "would he excellent critics, and would 
favour their own god Pan. 

6 60 — 63. Let him smile on his mother, she has earned his 
smiles ; without her smile he ne'er can come to honour. 



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ties," and an Illustrated Article on the Gladiators, containing 
an account of the Roman Treatment of Bees, the Story of 
Aristasus and his Bees, and the Episode of Orpheus and 
Eurydice, translated into English Heroic Verse. Fcap. 8vo., 
cloth boards, illuminated, gilt edges. New Edition, entirely 
re- written. 2s. 6d. 

THE STOEY OF AEIST^EUS AND HIS BEES, 

with Notes, in English Heroics. A Cheaper Edition. Price 
Is. 6d. Fcap. 8vo., cloth boards. 
v. 
THE BUCOLICS, translated into Ehythmic Prose, 
with Notes for the Student. Fcap. 8vo. , cloth boards, Is. 6d. 

VI. 

THE SATIEES, EPISTLES, AND AES POETICA 

of Horace, with Side-notes from Orelli, Illustrated Articles 
on the Roman House, Theatre, Amphitheatre, &c. ; a Life 
of Horace, and Introduction translated into English Prose. 
Cloth boards, crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. ; or separately, Is. 6d. each. 
VII. 

BOOK I. OF THE SATIEES OF HOEACE, to be 

followed by BOO£ II. and the EPISTLES, with Notes, a 
Life, Illustrated Articles on the Roman House, Theatre, 
Amphitheatre, &c, and Numerous Woodcuts from Rich's 
" Antiquities," translated into the same metre as Goldsmith's 
"Haunch of Venison." Illuminated cloth boards, fine 
paper, crown 8vo., 2s. 6d. 



Circulars can be had containing Specimen Pages and Reviews 
of the above works on application to Messrs. Longman, 39, 
Paternoster Row. 



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